


White Snow: Preparation

by Vhetin1138



Series: White Snow: Year 1 [2]
Category: Star Wars, Star Wars Legends - All Media Types, Star Wars Original Trilogy
Genre: Adventure, Gen, Keldabe, Mandalorian, Original Character(s), Science Fiction
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-25
Updated: 2017-01-25
Packaged: 2018-09-19 20:48:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 15
Words: 41,525
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9459866
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Vhetin1138/pseuds/Vhetin1138
Summary: BlueSend base has been destroyed and the bounty posted on the head of Imperial Admiral Luun has been claimed. Now, Mandalorian bounty hunter Cin Vhetin has an even bigger problem facing him: how to keep Jay Kolta, the prisoner under his protection, hidden from the Empire?If she is discovered, it will mean execution for all involved. If not, then Jay will begin her long path down the road to becoming a lethally effective bounty hunter.All that stands in her way is the full might of the Galactic Empire.





	1. Echoes

_“Akaanir’ika jii, ramaanar ori’nakar’tuur.”_

_“Train now, die much later.”_

— Mandalorian proverb

* * *

**Mandalorian freelance transport** **_Void_ ** **, exact coordinates unknown, hyperspace tunnel en route to Mandalore system**

Cin Vhetin sat back in the pilot's seat, propped his feet up on an empty section of the control panel, and watched the swirling blue-white tunnel of hyperspace as they blasted their way through it. The roiling maelstrom of hyperspacial energy cast strange, otherwordly highlights across _Void_ _’s_ cockpit, but he didn’t lower the ship’s blast shields to cut off the view. Many rumors claimed one could go insane from staring at the whirling lights for too long, but after years of interstellar travel, he found it strangely calming.

He absently rubbed his chin, turning a large fragment of twisted, burnt metal over and over in one hand. The metal was smooth and cold, always so cold. The edges were as sharp as razors and would slice deep if he wasn't careful. It didn’t stop him.

He ran the pad of his thumb over the raised insignia on the metal’s surface, the picture torn in two by the jagged edge of the fragment and now showing little more than a few parallel lines. He hadn't figured out what the symbol meant yet, despite years of trying. To this day the piece of shrapnel remained a mystery, a haunting reminder of days past that seemed to follow him wherever he went, nagging and clawing at his attention at every inopportune moment.

He closed his eyes and ran his thumb over the cool metal. Despite his ongoing frustration regarding the shrapnel's origins, it had become something of a comfort to him, like his own personal worry stone to ease tensions after tough or unexpected missions — missions such as the prison assault on Corulag.

The gentle hum of  _Void_ 's engines and the steady vibrations of the deck under his feet slowly began to ease away, leaving him in near-perfect silence. His head slowly began to throb with a steady, familiar pain just behind his temples. All his senses focused in on the piece of shrapnel between his fingers, feeling its cool surface as he opened his eyes again.

When he opened his eyes, his vision was tinted with blue. He knew from prior experience that his eyes were currently emitting a steady glow and soft sapphire-white smoke was wafting up around his face. His vision began fading to black and he heard an echoing scream, distant as if the sound had been torn from the throat of a faraway banshee.

" _There's someone in there!"_  a similarly distant voice cried.

" _Get him out! If he's alive, he's going to need medical attention."_

Another scream.

_"Dammit, he's bleeding everywhere."_

_"It's a miracle he survived."_

"Cin."

“ _Kriff, look at him! Are you sure he_ _’s alive?”_

_“Hurry. He doesn’t have much time.”_

“Cin!”

Vhetin started, jerking forward in his chair. The piece of shrapnel fell from his hands and clattered away across the floor as he scrambled to grab his helmet. Instinct kicked in and he reached for the pistol holstered on his hip. He only hesitated when he felt a hand fall on his shoulder.

"Easy, Cin," Rame said, squeezing his arm. "It's just me."

Vhetin slowly felt himself let out a long breath, the trance broken. The light faded from his eyes and all his senses flooded back to him in a strange, chaotic blur. His heart was pounding, his breath coming in short, sharp gasps. Rame glanced at the piece of shrapnel lying on the ground, but Vhetin quickly scooped up the fallen shrapnel and tucked it away into one of his belt pouches, out of sight.

The older man settled into the copilot's seat, pulling his helmet off and resting it on the floor next to him. He glanced over at his friend with a slight frown; Vhetin knew he wasn’t in for an angry rebuke, but a lecture was far more possible.

"You know you aren't supposed to be doing that. Looking into that thing’s history again."

"The deal was a month," Vhetin said, clearing his throat with no small amount of difficulty. "It's been two since I tried last time."

"You know what I mean. It's dangerous for you to dig so deep. You almost died last time. It could kill you if you try again."

"I let my impatience get the better of me last time," Vhetin said, shifting in his seat. "I reached too far, too fast. I'm in control now, and I won't let it happen again."

Rame shrugged and settled back in the copilot’s chair with a frustrated sigh. "I'm not in the mood to argue. Just… be careful, all right? I’d hate to lose you over something as stupid as a burnt-up piece of metal, and I can think of several people who would think the same way."

“All right. I’ll be careful.” Vhetin nodded, eager to change the subject. He stared into hyperspace for a few moments longer, then closed his eyes and put his hands behind his head. He took a deep breath and then another, calming his still-racing heart.

It was some time before he gathered the will to speak again. When he did, there was a note of dry amusement in his voice.

"Say it."

Rame shook his head. "I'm not going to."

" _Say_ it."

"You should have more respect for your elders."

"I hardly think you're old enough to be considered an elder. Say it."

Rame sighed explosively, but the hint of a smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. "Fine. You were right."

"About?"

"Come on, Cin, don't make be grovel."

" _About_?"

"So the girl wanted to be a bounty hunter, just like you said she would. Whoopdy-fierfeking-doo. It still doesn't mean she'll want to work with a partner."

"I'm not convinced  _I_  want a partner," Vhetin said quietly. "Not yet."

"But you said-"

"I said she would make a good bounty hunter," he corrected. "That if she decided to team up with someone, they may be very lucky if she's trained right. She shows potential. That's all."

"You confuse me, Cin. Just like she does."

"She wants to be trained as a bounty hunter so she can mete out justice to evil, corrupt, manipulative people.” Vhetin shrugged. “I can't think of a better reason to undergo the training. So if she wants to be a bounty hunter, I say let her."

"Yeah," Rame said, "but people call you a borderline sociopath, so excuse me if I don't take your view of things at face value."

Vhetin sighed. "Please put emphasis on  _borderline_ when you say that."

"Sorry," the other man quickly apologized. "But you know I'm right, don't you?"

Vhetin didn't answer, and his companion didn’t press him for a response. After a few moments of awkward silence, Rame finally shrugged and pointed out, "She's still got a long way to go. She may not even have what it takes. Our training isn’t for everyone."

"Do you even remember her personnel file?" Vhetin asked. "The girl is smart, determined, and dedicated. She's used to fighting to get what she wants. I think she'll make it."

"And what if she isn't like Brianna? What if she takes our training and decides to go off on her own?"

Vhetin frowned and sat up, looking over at his red-armored friend. "What do you mean?"

"She said she wants to become a bounty hunter so she can do a little good,” Rame said. “Administer justice in an unjust galaxy. But what happens if she decides to leave Mandalore after her training is finished and you two find yourselves on opposing sides? How does killing her to get at a bounty fit into your own pursuit of justice?"

Vhetin frowned deeper. Rame had a point. He couldn't begin to count the times he'd had an  _aruetii_ bounty hunter at gunpoint. The hunting trade was a cutthroat industry. Hunters these days had no problem shooting each other in the back to get at a target. Many hunters had as many tallies on their helmets for fellow hunter kills as they did for their targets. Even those who did it for more than simply money, like Vhetin, often found themselves at odds with their compatriots.

It was entirely possible that he would find himself at odds with this new girl, even if she made it through the rigorous training necessary to survive in the galaxy’s criminal underworld. And it was equally possible that they would find themselves fighting over a bounty. Vhetin knew that one way or another, it was not a fight she would win. It was not a comforting thought.

Rame nodded, satisfied that his argument had struck home. "I thought so. The other day I asked her if she knew what she was doing. Now I pose the same question. Do  _you_  know what you're doing?"

Vhetin didn’t speak. He didn't have an answer. Not yet.

"Let's just see what happens," he finally said, scowling behind his expressionless T-visored helmet. "It may never come to that."


	2. Nightmares, Homecoming, and Imperials

Jay wanted to cry. She wanted to curl up in the corner and weep, burying her head in her arms to escape this nightmare in which she found herself. She wanted to return to her cell, to the stormtrooper guards with their stun prods and cruel words.

But her captor refused to grant her such mercy.

"I will not ask again, Captain," Darth Vader boomed, hoisting her up into the air with a sweep of one gloved hand. "Who is your accomplice? Who paid you to sabotage the counterinsurgency mission?"

Jay choked and clawed at the invisible hands that tightened around her throat, eyes watering as a strangled choking sound fought its way from her throat. Thunder rumbled overhead as she writhed in fear and pain, legs kicking and flailing against open air. The bright, whitewashed walls of the room hurt her eyes, but it was nothing compared to the pain that blinded every other sensation as Vader smashed her against the table again.

She screamed as her forehead slammed against the tabletop, stars bursting in her vision. Before she could recover, she was thrown hard into her seat and slid back a few inches from the force of the push. Her chair tipped back a dizzying amount, then landed again with a hard and jarring _clack_. She blinked blood from her eyes, wiping at the fresh cut and matching bruise forming on her forehead.

"Do not test me, Captain," Vader snarled, lowering his hand and giving her a momentary reprieve from the choking grip around her neck. She instantly sucked in a stinging lungful of breath, letting out a wracking cough while rubbing her throat and gagging. "I will kill you if necessary."

Vader watched her with his pitiless and expressionless masked gaze as she hunched over and wheezed, lungs burning for air. He tipped his helmeted head slightly to one side, then stretched out a single hand toward her. She could feel energy pulse between his palm and her throat, once again cutting off her breath. She gagged once more as her throat closed and clutched at the invisible hands wrapped around her throat.

“Give… me… the _name_ ,” the black-clad nightmare hissed. His hand — and the invisible bonds created by it — squeezed tighter with each word that passed from his mask’s angular vocabulator.

"I... don't know what you're," she coughed and spat out a mouthful of blood. "I don't know what you're talking about! I'm... innocent!"

Again, she felt herself hauled into the air. Again, Vader's power forced its way into her mind, probing her deepest thoughts, searching for something, anything that would speak against her. She tried to fight against his terrible will, but could no longer summon the strength to resist him. Her vision went dark and she fell limp, suspended in mid-air as tears snaked down her cheeks.

The Dark Lord stared at her, eventually letting her slip back down to the ground. She sprawled against her cold metal chair, too weak to move. Vader stare seemed to cut right through her, staring into her innermost depths and sifting through her thoughts like a massif hunting down a piece of meat.

When he spoke, his voice echoed toward her as if from down a long tunnel. "Why do you resist? Why do you not simply give me a name?"

"B-because..." she gasped, feeling his power sift through her, an ice-cold snake slithering around in her head. She grimaced and dug her hands into her scalp, trying to dig the sensation from her skull, but knew there was no way to resist such terrible power. "I… I didn't  _do_  anything. And you know it!"

Vader didn’t move. "I do."

Jay stared at him in open shock, struggling again against the invisible bonds holding her in her seat.  _What?_ He knew she was innocent? Then why was he still holding her here?

"I can sense the truth in your words," he said, resting his fists on his hips. The motion spread his billowing cape, making him look easily twice his already considerable size.

"Then... why?" she sobbed, with barely enough strength to pull herself upright in her seat. "Why are you _doing_ this?"

Vader took a wheezing breath and stepped closer. "I received word you were interacting with terrorists, selling Imperial military plans to rebel factions along the Outer Rim. And there was indeed a credit surge of over one hundred thousand credits the day you were captured, meant to look like payment for your crimes. Yet you have not committed treason, despite what your superior officers claim."

"Then... then why are you still here? Why am _I_ still here?"

Vader tilted his helmeted head. "If I release you and pardon you of all accusations, those who _do_ plot against the Empire will be galvanized into further action, believing they can feign innocence and walk free."

He clenched a fist and Jay felt invisible fingers once more closing around her neck. She wheezed, unable to clutch her throat and fight against Vader's indomitable will. The Dark Lord stared at her before stepping away and turning his back to her. "You are a small piece in a much larger game, Captain. And now, you are an example to all who would rebel against the will of the Emperor."

He inclined his helmeted head. “It gives me no pleasure to do this, Captain Kolta. But your torture and death is necessary. For the Empire.”

Then the invisible power radiating from him surged forth like a wave crashing against the beach. A telekinetic blast hit her hard in the chest and knocked her out of her seat. Her cry of shock and pain was sucked from her lungs before it could even begin to form. The Force swirled around her, hoisting her into the air as thunder rumbled outside. Then, with a minuscule twitch of his gloved fingers, Vader threw her hard against the back wall and the world faded into darkness.

She didn't know how much time passed, but she woke to the cloying scent of smoke in her lungs. She tried to open her eyes, but couldn't. She tried to move her arms, but couldn’t do that either. She heard an explosion in the distance and felt the ground shaking beneath her feet. She could hear screams and the distant snap of blasterfire. What was happening?

"Don't worry," a familiar voice whispered. She felt strong hands lift her into the air, cradling her like some child in the arms of their parent. She wanted to struggle, but managed nothing more than a pathetic kick of her feet.

"I'm getting you out of here. Just stay still and trust me."

She recognized that voice. Tammer! Tammer was rescuing her. She was safe with Tammer...

But when she managed to open her eyes the slightest bit, she saw that she was not being rescued by Tammer, but by Vader! His rasping breath once more filled her head as he carried her through smoke, flames, and screaming stormtroopers.

No. It wasn't Vader. It was someone else, wearing black body armor.

"I don't know if you can hear me," the new figure said, "but my name is Cin Vhetin and I'm getting you to safety."

Vhetin? Vhetin was that bounty hunter, the one who had attacked the prison. She didn't know what to think, but he'd said he was taking her to safety. Maybe...

Then the world went ice-cold and she began to shiver. Once again, her mysterious rescuer became Darth Vader. He reached down, grabbed her face roughly with a single gloved hand, and began to squeeze.

"You are nothing," he boomed again. Always the same words, over and over again. "A pawn, to be used and expended at the will of your superiors. And your torture and death will break the resistance of those who would indeed rebel against the Empire."

His grip tightened, squeezing her throat until her vision began to darken once more. She clawed at his angular mask. It didn’t stop him, nor did his grip on her face lessen. She gasped and choked, struggling against his grip.

“I can’t…” she tried to suck in breath. Her knees buckled, feeling beginning to seep from her extremities. The world went cold. “I can’t…”

“The safety and security of the Empire is all that matters,” Vader thundered. “Regardless of intention, you jeopardized that security. For that, you must die.”

He squeezed even harder and she felt a sickening crackle in the back of her neck. The world was filled with the repetitive _wheeze-sigh_ of Vader’s breath. She fell into darkness, until all that existed was that terrible mask and the terrible man hidden behind it.

_For the Empire_ _…_

Jay screamed and sat bolt-upright in her cot.

Everything vanished. The distant battlefield, her mysterious rescuer, and even Darth Vader. As soon as she opened her eyes, it all blinked out of existence like a damaged hologram.

Her gaze raced about the room, searching for some sign of her tormentor. Her heart was pounding in her chest. The grip on her throat had vanished as well and she finally managed to suck in a full breath free of Vader’s power penning her down. She was alone in the sleeping quarters. Everything was silent save for the quiet hum of the ship's engines and the room was still and calm.

She closed her eyes and struggled to take deep, calming breaths. Her body was shivering uncontrollably, and the sheets were soaked with cold sweat. With an exhausted sigh, she lay back on the cot and tried to relax, one hand pressed against her clammy forehead. Her heart was still racing in her chest, and she rested one palm over her chest to feel her heartbeat thump against her fingers. It was strangely calming.

Darth Vader wasn't here. He never had been. It had all been nothing but a nightmare.

She could feel it as if she was still there, on Corulag: the roar of the thunder, the feel of Vader's invisible hands as they throttled the life out of her, the loud mechanical wheeze of the Dark Lord's breath, and the pain and shock as she was beaten repeatedly, interrogated so she would spit up the name of a man who didn't even exist.

Though her body had mostly healed from the Sith Lord's interrogation, her mind had yet to recover. Every time she tried to get any sleep, she was met with the same dream. It haunted her relentlessly.

_He_ haunted her.

She sighed and sat up again. It was clear she wasn't going to get any sleep, at least not for now. It might do her good to take a walk and ease her frayed nerves. She swung her legs off the cot and stood, heading for the door. She grabbed her tattered Imperial jacket from its hook near the wall and pulled it over the simple sleeveless shirt she wore beneath. Once done, she keyed open the door that led to the central corridor of the ship. As long as she was up, she should see how close they were getting to their destination.

For some reason, the idea of reaching the planet Mandalore, home of the infamous Mandalorian warriors, filled her with a mixture of apprehension and excitement. She had used the onboard ship computers to read up on the planet before settling down for what she’d thought would be a peaceful nap.

The HoloNet file wasn’t too enlightening, offering little pertinent information about the world save that it was an agrarian frontier planet with kilometers of unexplored wilderness and a small but volatile population. The latest census claimed the population was about eighty-five percent local Mandalorian. Local Mando frontiersmen had also spread out to several other planets in the sector, including Concord Dawn, Ordo, Draboon, and the ruins of Taris. All were profitable trade hubs, being right off the Hydian Hyperspace Way.

The Empire had sent out a report several months before with a list of all planets off-duty military personnel should avoid. Anti-Imperial sentiment in the galaxy was at an all-time high lately, especially among some of the more violent races under the Empire's rule, and she remembered Mandalore being near the top of that list. What these armored warriors would do to her if they found out she was a former navy pilot...

_Whoa,_  she thought.  _Slow down. These two Mandos found me and they've been nothing but kind since I_ _’ve met them. If I want to impress them enough for them to agree to train me, I need to calm the kriff down._

It was true that, for all the determination she'd shown earlier when she'd decided to become a bounty hunter, she did have serious misgivings. Bounty hunters weren't usually known for their kindness, and many were seen as little more than thugs, hired killers with a craving for blood and chaos. Mandalorians were the cream of the mercenary crop, trained from infancy to hunt and kill their prey. At best, they were seen as war-mongering mercenaries. At worst, they were a culture of savages.

So she was finding it difficult to reconcile the galaxy's image of both Mandalorians and bounty hunters with the two she'd had the fortune – or misfortune – of meeting face-to-face.

Rame Omotao was easygoing, funny, and effortlessly charming — something that had truly surprised her. The galaxy had branded bounty hunters as among the lowest of the low, the scum of the galaxy, but as hard as she tried she was not able to convince herself that the gray-haired warrior was a bad person. He seemed genuinely concerned about her well-being, which she found very odd from a person who hunted down living beings for profit.

Cin Vhetin, on the other hand, was a different story. He was quiet and uncommunicative, usually only speaking a few words at a time. He kept to himself and rarely took the initiative to strike up conversation with her, usually lurking in either the cockpit or his quarters. However, during the rare occasions they had spoken he was nothing but polite, if a little brusque. She didn't get the impression that he was overly unkind, but as far as being a good person and someone she could trust... she couldn't tell yet.

Taking a deep breath, she gathered up her courage and knocked on the door to the cockpit. She hear armor shuffling within and a heavy clank as the door unlocked. After a few moments it hissed open to reveal Rame standing on the threshold, dressed in his full-body silver and red battle armor. His helmet was clipped to his belt by some kind of specially adapted hook, and his pistol was holstered on his belt.

"Hey there," he said with a welcoming grin. "I was just about to wake you up. We're almost home. Come in, come in."

As she stepped into the roomy cockpit, she noticed Vhetin securing his black and gray helmet over his head. She frowned a little at that; he always seemed to have his helmet on in her presence. It was like he was deliberately trying to hide his face from her.

_Maybe he's just shy_ , she thought.  _I've seen stranger things._

"You're in for a treat," Rame was saying, gesturing for her to sit in the gunner's station while he took the copilot's seat. "According to our rules, not many  _aruetiise_  are allowed down so easily. We're usually a very secluded group."

"Usually?" Jay echoed.

Rame grimaced. "Unfortunately, at the end of the Clone Wars the newly-formed Empire stationed a garrison near our capital city to keep us in line. It's a pain in the ass to have them spying on all our business, and it's garnered some pretty hostile attitudes toward outsiders. More so than usual."

"Can't you do anything about it?" Jay asked. She'd heard that Mandalorians were the toughest mercenaries in all the galaxy. They were feared far and wide, and the sight of even a single armored warrior was enough to make even the most hardened criminals back down and run from a fight. At least that was what she'd been told.

Vhetin spoke up for the first time. "We've yet to kick them out. Our leadership doesn't want to escalate this into a diplomatic incident or,  _te Manda_  forbid, a full-scale war. So we've settled for taking occasional potshots at the garrison base and making damn sure they know they're not wanted. Apart from that, it's nothing but passive aggression and frustrated tolerance."

He turned away and began typing commands into the ship's control system. The deck jerked beneath her feet and the ship began to decelerate, the control panel letting out a steady series of beeps. Jay could feel the deceleration in the pit of her stomach even though they were still traveling faster than light. Then the bounty hunter reached up to a long lever on the control panel in front of him and gently pulled it back. The ship let out a high-pitched whine and finally exploded back into realspace.

Everyone in the cockpit was thrown forward by the force of the deceleration. The lights in the cockpit dimmed for a moment, then warmed once more as power was restored. Vhetin quickly set to work on a post-hyperspace inspection, tapping commands into the console in front of him with near-blinding speed. Rame sighed and put his hands behind his head, a happy smile on his face.

" _Osik_ ,” the gray-haired Mandalorian sighed. “It's good to be home."

Jay's eyes were almost instantly drawn to a huge planet off to the right of her vision. It was massive, blotting out almost the entire viewport. Different shades of green and beige were scattered across the planet's surface, and she could pick out two large oceans. Clouds swirled over the darker green parts of the planet, obviously forests and rural areas, and she could even see a hurricane forming over one of the oceans. Nowhere could she see the huge industrial sprawls that had spotted Corulag's surface, or the slate-gray residential areas of planets like Imperial Center. She saw little more than plain, unfettered wilderness stretching across as much of the planet as she could see. It was easy to see why Mandalore was considered a frontier world, and it was one of the most beautiful sights she'd ever seen.

Ships of every conceivable make and model darted to and from the planet's surface, like flitterbees traveling back and forth from a hive. As she watched, two sleek silver-black fighters, the likes of which she had never seen, fell into position next to the ship. They performed barrel rolls and erratic zigzagging maneuvers in front of the ship with screaming engines. After a few moments, three more of the same kind of ships appeared and joined their companions in looping and spinning around the ship. As Jay watched, smiling, she was reminded of certain species of porpoises at play.

Rame cracked a smile and shook his head as the ships darted back and forth in front of the ship. "Hotshots," he muttered with a smirk. "Prototype test-pilots for MandalMotors. For them, everything's a game."

The ships peeled off, spinning and looping around each other before disappearing into the space behind the ship where Jay could no longer see them. She turned her gaze back to the planet, still smiling, and suddenly felt her heart sink with worry. In addition to the myriad of unique vessels making their way to and from the planet, she could also see the familiar shapes of Imperial TIE fighters and the huge triangular bulk of a Star Destroyer floating in orbit.

Rame frowned and leaned forward in his chair. "A Destroyer? That's a new addition to the local scenery."

Jay glanced at the two hunters, suddenly uncomfortable. It was only a little over a day after her rescue from her prison. She was an escapee from a high-security prison under the supervision of Darth Vader himself. The Empire was sure to be searching for her. If they found her, it would be back to prison and execution within the blink of an eye. The two bounty hunters would probably suffer an even worse fate.

"Are you sure it's safe here?" she asked nervously as several TIE fighters swerved mid-flight and began heading toward them. Unlike the sleek fighters before, these ships did not look playful in the least. She could almost hear the telltale screech of their ion engines as they drew nearer.

Vhetin spoke, sounding thoughtful. "The Destroyer is probably just passing through the system on garrison rotation. It's probably not a threat, but it does mean we need to take extra precautions just in case."

"Right. Um, in the meantime," Jay said, tracking the incoming ships, "those fighters are getting closer. You think they want us, or are they just _passing through_ as we-"

Rame interrupted her, his voice tight. "Those ships are hailing us, Cin."

Vhetin let out a sigh and a quiet curse as his hands began flying over the ship's controls, performing a myriad of actions in mere moments. He raised the shields, charged the cannons, and sent a confirmation message to the incoming TIEs. "Rame, hide her."

The red-armored Mandalorian jumped into action. "You think they'll board the ship?"

"I don't think so, but it's best to err on the side of caution. Hurry."

The TIE fighters screamed past the cockpit viewport, the sound of their ion drives unmistakable even when muffled by the ship's bulkheads and the vast vacuum of space. Rame took Jay's arm and said, "Follow me. Quick."

Jay had time to hear a voice crackle over the intercom. " _This is Mandalore Imperial Fleet Command. State your name and business. Fail to comply and we will open fire._ "

Then she was led out of the cockpit and the door slammed shut with purpose.


	3. Hi, Boys

" _This is Mandalore Imperial Fleet Command_ ," the intercom voice said, the transmission garbled by static and interference. " _State your name and business. Fail to comply and we will open fire_."

The cockpit door slid shut as Rame ushered Jay out of the room. Vhetin didn’t bother looking over his shoulder to watch them leave. She would be hidden in one of the secret weapon caches that were scattered throughout the ship, hopefully safe from Imperial scanners.

That was at least one problem dealt with. He still had a myriad of others facing him down.

Vhetin keyed the comm system and responded before the Imps could get suspicious. "This is Mandalorian freelance transport  _Void_ , inbound to Keldabe airspace. We're requesting permission to enter atmo and head down to the spaceport."

There was a pause over the intercom, during which the Imperials were probably rethinking their decision of stopping him. If they'd been stationed in the Mandalore system for more than a few weeks, they would know that Vhetin was a respected Mandalorian dirtside, as well as one of the top bounty hunters in this sector – possibly in the galaxy. Due to his connections with the Black Sun crime syndicate, his near-spotless hunting record, and a decorated record serving with the Mandalorian Protectors, his name carried weight in this sector. His reputation of working for anti-Imperial contractors was nothing to scoff at either.

The Empire had never conclusively pinned him to any of the contracts he'd taken against them, but they certainly suspected. Rumor was enough to solidify his reputation as a stubborn anti-Imperial with violent tendencies. Some had gone as far as calling him an anarchist and a terrorist.

It wasn’t true of course — at least not completely — but such a reputation was useful in his line of work. He hadn’t tried to counter any of the rumors.

But despite his reputation and his long record working both for and against the Empire, he was far from the most recognizable mercenary in the galaxy. He couldn't count the times he'd introduced himself and been met with an uncomprehending stare.  He had no complaints about his sporadic infamy as a bounty hunter; the big-league hunters were a little to notorious for his taste, and his sporadic fame was useful enough to keep the contracts and credits flowing in equal measure.

 _In my opinion_ , he'd said once,  _the best place in this trade is second place. Fett takes the infamy, I take more of the cash._

It wasn't his ego telling him that he was second-best. He harbored no misguided beliefs that if the infamous Boba Fett was taken out, he himself would be the best. In the bounty hunting industry it was a well-known fact that there were thousands of hunters who were _almost_ at the top of their game. It just meant that they were all  _very_  good, but not perfect. Only Fett could claim the title as the most deadly and most feared.

The intercom voice finally came back. " _What is your business in the Mandalore system,_ Void _?_ "

"Just heading home after some personnel requisition in Hutt space."

 _Personnel requisition... That'll keep the Imperials on edge_ , he thought with a grim smile.

" _Confirmed,_ Void," the Imperial said after another long pause. But as Vhetin was about to bring the ship towards the planet, the voice continued, " _Move to Rendezvous Point Alpha. We're transmitting the coordinates. Once you arrive, you will be boarded and transported to Concordia Command and Control. The garrison commander has some questions for you._ "

"Kriff," Vhetin muttered to himself. He triggered the comm and transmitted, "All right. Moving to Rendezvous Alpha.  _Void_  out."

Rame entered the cockpit again just as the Imperial signed off. "What's the word?"

Vhetin sighed and set the ship on autopilot, then grabbed his jet pack from the corner and hooked it to his armored back plate. There was a satisfying  _chunk_  as the metal tabs of the pack slid into their housing and magnetically sealed to his armor. A corresponding chime within his helmet signified that the pack's systems were synced to his heads-up-display, ready to be triggered at the blink of an eye.

"Is Jay hidden?" he asked as he armored up.

"Yeah."

"Hidden well?"

"Of course. Cin, what the hell is going on?"

Vhetin grabbed his twin lightsabers from a compartment on the wall and hooked them on his belt. They would make for a fearsome sight to the Imperial boarding party. If he was going to send a message to the Imperials to leave him alone, he'd have to present a commanding figure to the lackeys sent to pick him up.

"I think the Imps are on to us," he said. "They're going to board us and take me to Concordia for questioning."

Rame cursed. "Damn it. They know about the Luun contract?"

Vhetin didn't think he'd been identified during the attack; the chaos at the prison had masked his presence there and Rame's post as a sniper would have fooled the locals into thinking he was part of a larger team. Even if they did suspect, he found it unlikely that the Empire could have found out about the kidnapped general so quickly.

But if they  _had_  learned about the Corulag siege, and that Vhetin was harboring an Imperial fugitive... that was a major problem. It could land him serious jail time, a tour in the spice mines of Kessel, or worse.

"I don't know," he said as he headed for the door. "In the meantime, will you take  _Void_  in for me?"

"Sure. We'll be waiting at the farm for you to get back."

"Don't let the Imps find Jay."

Rame nodded and took the controls, keeping the ship steady as a TIE bomber headed for their location. The ships doubled as air support and boarding craft and were used to carry troops into potentially dangerous areas. Standard Imperial protocol so far.

As he headed for the dock room, Vhetin calculated how many troops they might send in to get him. There would be four, maybe up to six stormtroopers aboard, as well as an officer to issue orders. Nothing too troublesome, but still enough firepower to make Vhetin pause. If the situation escalated into a fight, the close quarters of  _Void_ 's dock room and his lightsabers would give him an advantage, but he would still be woefully outnumbered.

He headed further down the ship's central corridor, keyed open one of the access doors, and stepped into the docking chamber. There was a loud screech and a deep boom as the Imperial ship locked into the ship's docking ring. Vhetin just stood straight, his hands folded defiantly across his chest as he waited for the ship-to-ship door to open. When it finally slid upward into  _Void_ 's housing, an Imperial officer stepped out, flanked by two stormtroopers. He saw four more white-armored soldiers waiting in the ship over their shoulders.

He shook his head and thought, _Predictable as always_.

"Hi fellas," he said, glaring at them through his helmet visor. "I'm so glad we have these wonderful little get-togethers. They're truly the highlight of my week."

"Cin Vhetin," the officer said as the stormtroopers leveled their rifles. "You will come with us. Fail to comply and we will open fire."

" _Fail to comply and we will open fire_ ," Vhetin echoed as he was led into the ship at gunpoint. "What is that, your catchphrase of the day?"

"The garrison commander has some questions for you," the officer said, repeating his earlier phrase word for word and tone for tone.

Vhetin sighed and rolled his eyes as he settled into one of the seats that lined the wall.

_Kriffing Imperials..._


	4. Welcome to Keldabe

Crouching in the pitch-black, Jay held her breath and tried to ignore the overpowering scent of weapon lubricant, ion burn, and engine coolant that clogged the compartment. The tiny weapon cache into which she had been hurriedly shoved was concealed behind a wall in the cluttered engine room. It was so cleverly concealed, however, that it left little room for movement of any kind. Even breathing was a struggle.

Her heart pounded uncomfortably in her chest as she waited for Rame to come get her. Her mind was focused on all the worst situations her imagination could conjure up. Arrest, interrogation, incarceration, execution... If the Imperials boarded the ship, she wasn't sure what would happen. As he'd hurriedly tucked her into the small chamber, Rame had assured her that she was safe from Imperial scanning devices. She still had her doubts.

Heavy footsteps entered the room outside. She tensed, thinking it was a stormtrooper scanning crew. But then she heard the person outside muttering to himself, and she recognized Rame's voice.

The door was suddenly pulled back, flooding the small compartment with light. The man stepped back and gave her room to exit. "Are you all right?"

"I'm fine," she said, wiping weapon lube off her hands onto her old uniform pants. "What's happening?"

"We've got a problem," he growled, then set off towards the cockpit.

She moved to hurry after him, her heart plummeting into her gut. "What kind of problem?"

Rame threw himself in the pilot's seat and took the ship off autopilot, guiding  _Void_  down into Mandalore's atmosphere. He triggered the ship's engines and smoothly guided the ship away from a retreating Imperial bomber. Vhetin was nowhere to be seen.

"The Imperials took Cin in for questioning," Rame explained, voice tight. "Probably about the whole Corulag deal."

Jay felt her stomach drop. When she'd said she wanted to travel to Mandalore, she hadn't meant for the bounty hunters who had rescued her to be punished for her escape. "Will he be all right?"

Rame let out a dark chuckle. "They wouldn't dare touch him. Not while they're camped out right on our moon. But if they're questioning Vhetin, it might mean they suspect you're on board. And if they can tie him to the Corulag siege with conclusive evidence... well, all bets are off."

"Do you think-"

"Before you say it, no. Vhetin won't say anything to the Imperials. You can trust him"

The deck began to buck and shake beneath her feet as the ship descended into Mandalore's atmosphere. She was forced to take a seat in the copilot's chair. "And what if they already know I'm here?"

Rame flew in silence for a moment, then said, "Once we get you down to Keldabe, you'll be fine. But just... keep your eyes peeled, all right? Don't go picking any fights or do something stupid to bring attention to yourself. We'll let this all blow over, then worry about what to do next."

"Okay," she said, strapping herself in.

"I told him," Rame muttered through clenched teeth. "I  _told_  him taking another anti-Imperial bounty so soon was a bad idea. But did he listen? No."

When they eventually broke free of the lower atmosphere, Rame took the ship down over a long, winding mountain range covered by a forest that stretched on for miles. They flew over the woodland for about five minutes, trees zooming past at a blinding pace as the ship raced through the sky. After cresting a particularly tall mountain, the ground suddenly sloped away beneath them and Jay stared down at the spectacle that had revealed itself beneath the ship.

A deep blue river wound its way through a lush forest valley far below, flanked on all sides by mountains and seemingly endless forest. Further along the valley, the woodland tapered off to give way to grasslands, angular farm plots, and seemingly fields of crops. Near the northern area of the valley, Jay could pick out the circular boundaries of a sprawling city built over a large sloping hill. The ship descended through the scant cloud cover and made a straight line for the city.

Rame tapped the glowing blue intercom button and a burst of static invaded the cockpit. The older man twisted a dial and leaned closer to the mic. "Keldabe Ground Control, this is  _Void_ , requesting clearance to land."

The comm hissed, clicked, then began to speak.

"Pare sol, Void _,"_ a raspy female said. " _One sec... all right,_ Void _, you have clearance. Omotao, is that you?_ "

"Affirmative," Rame reported. "What's up?"

" _Why isn't Vhetin piloting his own ship? He finally cut off his own hands with them_ jetti'kads?"

"No. The Imperials took him in for questioning. Contract troubles."

"' _Bout what_?" The GC officer's voice was almost conversational.

"They wouldn't say."

There was a quiet sigh over the comm. " _Damn Imps. Think they own the place. It's getting to where decent_ Mando'ad beroyas  _can't even leave the system without their say-so._ "

"And it's all about one thing."

"Ver'verd bal beskar," the GC officer agreed. " _Mercenaries and iron_."

"Well, what can we do? The Imps will meddle and irritate like they always have. It's the way of things."

" _I suppose it's a blessing they haven't gotten stupid enough to be anything other than irritating as hell._ "

Rame cracked a smile and said, "I'm taking her down, GC."

" _Affirmative,_ Void _,_ " the GC officer said, instantly back to business. " _Proceed to Bay 319 for registration and re-fueling. Welcome back_."

They swooped low over the expansive city and headed for an air control tower near what was obviously a spaceport near the northeastern edge of the city. Ships of every kind were heading in and out of the area, clogging the airways nearby. There was even a massive, boxy capital ship hovering a few hundred feet above the air control tower. Tiny freighter ships darted back and forth from the tower roof and the capital ship's belly, no doubt offloading cargo and personnel.

Jay, who had only understood about half of Rame's conversation with the GC officer, decided to speak up. "So I take it things are getting a little tense with the Imperials?"

Rame shook his head. "No.  _Tense_  would have described the situation at the end of the Clone Wars, when the Imps first  _got_ here. Right now I'd say things are spiraling out of control. You saw what happened: they wanted to talk to Vhetin so they just took him, right off his own ship. And we aren't even officially part of their damn Empire. Legally, they have no jurisdiction, but that doesn't stop them from walking all over us like Mandalore is their favorite backwater province."

He set the ship down in an empty docking area, Bay 319, and killed power to the ship's drives. As soon as the dust from the touchdown settled, men and women in gray-yellow jumpsuits jogged forward, dragging fuel hoses and other tools.

"They ration our incoming supplies," Rame said while he watched the dock hands work, "tax our outgoing exports, strut about Keldabe like they own the entire bloody city, then complain that no one speaks to them. There are rumors that one of the younger officers even shot himself, he felt so unwanted."

He eventually stood and gestured for her to follow as he made for the exit. "It's my opinion that if they want to feel useful, if they want to feel like heroes, they should stay the hell away from our sector of the galaxy. Stay near planets like Coruscant and Corellia, where there are millions of brown-nosers to fawn over them at a moment's notice."

"I grew up on Corellia," Jay said quietly.

"Ah, well there's always the odd one of the bunch who turns out all right," Rame said with a wink. "But seriously, all it's going to take is some idiot kid to stick a bomb in the Imp Garrison base and  _pow-_ " he punched a fist into his palm, "the entire planet's under military quarantine."

"I thought you said it was safe here.”

"It is safe," he assured her. "We  _Mando'ade_ are a pretty independent lot. Most of our imports are minor stuff: mechanical equipment, repair kits, foreign foods... But if the Imps slap a quarantine on us, you can bet there'll be some pretty hostile attitudes toward  _aruetiise_ planet-wide."

" _Aruetiise_?" Jay echoed. The word came out clumsily, but she managed to copy it fairly well. Both Rame and Vhetin had been using the word pretty liberally lately; it must be something important.

"It's a  _Mando'a_  word," Rame explained. "The closest translation means  _foreigners_ , but it's more than that. It means something akin to  _them_ or  _everyone else_. It can even mean  _traitor_ if used in the right context."

"Right..." Jay said hesitantly. "And I'm an  _aruetiise?_ "

" _Aruetii_ ," he corrected. "And yes, but not in the traitor sense. Just in the way that you aren't Mandalorian."

“It’s an insult, isn’t it?”

Rame cocked his head with a slight grimace. “It’s not exactly a _nice_ word, but I wouldn’t go as far to say it’s an insult. Most of us mean anything by it. Just acknowledging that we’re different.”

Jay frowned at him. “Are we different?”

He showed her a wry half-smile. “In more ways than we have time to count, sweetheart.”

Together, they strode down the ramp and into the circular docking bay. Once they'd exited, Rame began walking around the ship, checking for damage and banging on an external fuel tank. He traded a few friendly words with the dock hands as they worked to refuel the ship and repair minor damages, but he mostly left them to their work.

Jay, meanwhile, took a step back and looked up at the ship. She had yet to see it from the outside; she had woken up within the vessel after the bounty hunters had sprung her from prison. The internal layout of the ship was familiar by now, but she was curious to see what kind of ship a bounty hunter like Vhetin would use in his dangerous job.

_Void_  was as big as a house, long and shaped like an oblong spearhead. The hull was painted a dull, scarred steel-gray and purple mix and looked as if it had seen many battles; it was battered, but obviously very strong. It rested on eight compound landing struts, four on each side, that were taller than Jay was. The cockpit was situated high on the ship, near the nose, providing a good lookout on the space ahead. The transport boasted a total of six compound ion drives, which would make it surprisingly fast, if a little loud. There were large cannon turrets fixed above and beneath the ship's center and two more situated on the underside of the port and starboard corners of the hull.

It was a freighter, to be sure. It lacked the hard, angular lines of a combat ship and instead sported boxy heat-vent panels, oblong sensors, and thin, glowing blue HoloLink communicators. Vhetin had obviously spent a lot of time – not to mention money – to link the ship up to a powerful information relay. She could guess such a tool would be very useful to a bounty hunter.

In all, the ship looked thin, streamlined, and predatory. It reminded Jay of a lethal razorshark, all smooth lines and fangs. She had no doubt the ship could hold its own in a battle, as well as outrun pursuers if need be.

Rame appeared from behind the ship and strode toward her, rubbing his hands. "Well, she looks fine. The techs say she needs some routine maintenance work, but nothing too drastic. Let's go ahead and give you the grand tour."

They set off across the small docking bay, Rame leading the way. Tucked into an alcove near the door, sharing the bay with  _Void_ , were three of the same sleek silver-black fighters she'd seen while they were still in orbit. Jay could easily make out the insignia of a tusked skull painted onto the side of each one: a tusked skull with a light shining out from one of the eye sockets.

"The MandalMotors insignia," Rame said, noticing her gaze. "It’s a local company. Our primary weapons, armor, and hypernautics manufacturer. They're the biggest business on the planet, and have kept our economy alive for centuries. You'll be seeing that symbol a lot more if you stay here."

She nodded and turned back to him as they headed for the door. "So... if things are so bad here, why don't you just drive the Imperials out? You look like you have enough firepower."

"Besides the inevitable Imperial backlash? There isn't enough firepower in the galaxy to keep the Empire away for long," Rame said. "And no matter how bad things get, Shysa isn't about to take things to that level."

"Shysa?"

"Our political leader," he said. " _Mand'alor_ Fenn Shysa."

They left the docking bay and emerged into the larger spaceport. They were instantly tossed into a bustling community of humans, aliens, and droids that crowded in on all sides. Though Jay was able to pick out a few different species - a Twi'lek here, a Nikto there, even a bulky Gammorean – the majority of the spacers were humans dressed in everything from simple farming robes to full-body armor plating in the style of Rame's gear. Of those who wore armor, Jay saw a bewildering array of colors and color schemes. She saw both polished and dull variations of reds, blues, silvers, golds, and hundreds of other color combinations.

"And how do you feel about the Imperial situation?" Jay asked Rame, raising her voice to be heard over the commotion of the spaceport. She couldn't begin to predict what the man's response would be, but maybe his answer would reveal more about himself.

The bounty hunter shrugged, swerving to avoid a shambling protocol droid. "I'm neutral on the whole thing. As long as the Imps keep their big noses in their own business, I'm content to leave them alone. But when they try to interfere with our lives, like they did when they pretty much kidnapped Vhetin... well, then I get pretty riled up."

"And is that the general consensus planet-wide?" Jay watched as they passed a scowling Iridonian Zabrak as he bickered with a burly man in gray-gold armor. A patch on the armored man's shoulder read  _Keldabe Law Enforcement Office._

Rame sighed. "Unfortunately, no.  _Mando'ad_  tolerance for outsiders has never been lower. I guess it isn't surprising, though. Things have been going downhill for us since before the Clone Wars."

They fell silent as they worked their way through the bustling spaceport. It was a busy day, and Jay almost lost her way three times. Every time, however, she managed to catch a glimpse of Rame's reflective silver-red armor and fought her way through the crowd to his side once again. They were held up when Jay accidentally bumped into a short Twi'lek in green and yellow armor, making him drop a heavy crate full of some kind of grain product. After apologizing profusely and helping him gather it all back up, he was finally willing to let her off with a glare and a muttered curse.

After a few long minutes, they emerged onto a busy street and Rame put a hand in front of her to bring her to a halt. The street outside was just as busy as the spaceport inside. Speeders raced back and forth across the street and the sidewalks bustled with more citizens, armored and unarmored alike.

"Hold up," Rame cautioned her. "It's midday, so things are kind of crazy here. Let's keep the chatter to a minimum for a bit."

She nodded silently and followed hot on his heels as he jogged across the street. She stared around, taking in her surroundings with wide eyes, and was surprised at how messy and run-down everything was. There were trash bins tipped over in the street, dilapidated buildings in various states of disrepair, and laundry hanging on lines strung between buildings high above her head. The streets were damp under her feet, with standing pools of off-color, stagnant water she took great care to avoid. She could hear nightcats howling in the distance, adding to the din of roaring speeders and shouting people.

Generally, what she could see painted the image of a shabby and ramshackle town. It was a very stark contrast to her image of these armored mercenaries, as Jay had thought their capital city would have been pristine and militaristic. How could they live in such filthy conditions?

Jay assumed the messy part of the city was just the slums. Every city had them; places where the lower class of citizens lived, places the locals were either too afraid or too lazy to fix up. But as they walked along she just saw block after block of urban decay. There were beggars on every street corner, holding signs written in a strange, angular script Jay couldn't read. And for every beggar, there were two people with market stalls set up street side selling everything from food to weapons to surprisingly attractive works of art.

The sights, sounds, and smells were almost too much for her to take in at once. Everywhere she looked the city bustled with life despite its run-down appearance. Armored Mandalorians chatted, laughed, or shouted everywhere she looked, with the merchants calling for any customer that passed to browse their wares. It was a barely-controlled chaotic mess, but a strangely intoxicating one. Not even Coruscant, the City of Trillions, was this lively — at least not until you reached the dangerous lower levels.

They passed by a speeder repair shop with an archaic wooden sign swinging on hooks over the front door. The sign was painted in more of the rough, unfamiliar runes that Jay had seen scattered across the city. Mandalorian letters, she assumed. A bearded man wearing rust-red and black armor nodded to them as they passed, spinning a sharp combat knife through his fingers as he leaned against the door to his shop and watched the bustle of the street through narrowed eyes. Rame exchanged a few words with the man in his native tongue as they passed. The bearded man nodded, replied in kind, then spat something onto the street through the corner of his mouth.

"Is the entire city like this?" Jay asked, her voice almost lost in the sounds.

Rame nodded with a smile. "Yeah, we Mandalorians don't care much for outward appearances. We live our lives to the fullest, regardless of the landscape around us. Every Mandalorian is allowed to be completely and wholly his own man, provided he keeps the peace and obeys the law. Makes for some pretty colorful characters."

"So I see." Jay watched as another tall, armed Mandalorian passed them. This man had bloody red streaks across his armor and a belt-skirt made of Trandoshan leather. She shivered at the sight; on any other world, he'd be seen at best as a dangerous criminal, at worst as some kind of psychopath. But here, Mandalorians seemed to treat him like everyone else. No one besides Jay was giving him so much as a second glance. "I guess it's what's inside that counts, right?"

"Beauty's only skin-deep, sweetheart," the bloody-looking Mandalorian growled as he strode past. Jay jumped and blushed deeply, trying her best to shrink into Rame's shadow.

Rame chuckled and saluted lazily to the Mando. The man nodded in return and disappeared down a side alley. Jay watched him go, then shook her head. This didn’t seem like the kind of place where she could run her mouth and get away with it. She got the feeling that some of the locals — like the bloodstained warrior — took things _very_ seriously.

"Unfortunately," Rame continued, "living life to the fullest doesn't exactly bring out the best in some people. Mandalore's lively enough, but we've got one of the highest unemployment rates in this sector of the galaxy. Almost a quarter of the planet's population lives in poverty, and the government's been on the verge of bankruptcy for almost a century. Hence the roughed-up look of the city."

He began counting off on his fingers. “Add that to a staggering crime rate, a flourishing drug trade, and a bunch of armed and angry Anti-Imperialists scattered about, and the city is far from a utopia. To be honest, Keldabe’s kind of a shithole. But it’s _our_ shithole, you know?”

Jay nodded. That sure explained a lot. She was sure that the galaxy's fear of Mandalorians made it difficult for the armored men and women to trade goods with other cultures, and their reputation for violence no doubt made few friends in the galaxy at large. It wasn't hard to see that Mandalore's agricultural economy wasn't just an exploitation of the planet's abundant natural resources; it was a fight to keep people fed.

Were these really the great and powerful Mandalorians she'd heard so much about? She'd been told that they were near-invincible faceless warriors that were once the scourge of the entire galaxy. That they were indomitable, unfeeling, unhesitating soldiers that would do anything for credits. This poverty stricken yet surprisingly cheerful people, living in their dirty and run-down city, was about as far from that image as she could imagine.

_Then again,_  she thought,  _this is their homeworld. I suppose if I met them on the battlefield, they_ would _be fearsome and deadly._

She eventually sighed and said, "You Mandalorians sure aren't what I expected."

Rame grinned. "You'd be surprised at how many people say that."

They passed down a thin alley littered with trash. As they progressed, the huge capital ship she'd seen earlier passed overhead with a colossal roar, shaking the dirt beneath her feet and thundering so loud she could feel the vibrations in her chest. She glanced up and saw the ship hovering low over the city, its belly only hundreds of feet above her head. The freighter ships were following in its wake, like cleaner fish chasing after a much larger Deep Whale. Even after it rose into the air and disappeared into the clouds, the earth-shaking roar of the ship's engines continued to drown out everything else. It was a good two minutes before the sound eventually faded away and another minute before Jay’s ears stopped ringing.

Rame didn't pay the ship any notice, however, so Jay followed his example and continued to follow him down the street. They walked down the sparsely-populated alley for a few moments and eventually emerged into a well-kept plaza. It was very different from the rest of the city, with clean, rough-hewn cobblestones underfoot and a fenced-off area to her left overlooking a roaring waterfall that emptied into a large river far below. The buildings around the plaza were cramped and clustered together, as if the builders had known this would be a gathering place for Mandos across the city and had eagerly tried to push as many shops inside as they could.

Rame tapped her shoulder and nodded toward a nearby collection of interconnected buildings with rounded tops. A sign above the door of the center building sported the same angular Mandalorian runes she'd seen all over the city. Beneath this, however, were words in Basic.

_UNIVERSE TAPCAF_ , said the sign above the door.  _NO STRILLS INSIDE – BARTER ACCEPTED._

"A tapcaf?" Jay asked, a strong skeptical note to her voice. Tapcafs were basically cantina-motels, usually very low-key and very seedy. She'd stayed in a few over the course of her life and did not have good memories of them. BlueSend Prison was probably cleaner than this place.

Rame nodded and sighed with a smile. "The good old  _Oyu'baat_. The crossroads of Keldabe. Every  _Mando_  in the system knows this place."

"What's so special about it?" she asked. "A free grenade with every drink?"

"Ask for Aramis'  _net'ra gal._ It's more explosive than any grenade."

"I think I'll pass," Jay said dubiously. "And… I'll be staying here?"

The sun was already sinking low on the horizon, painting the sky above it brilliant orange and purple. It would be dark before long, and she didn't like the thought of being stuck in this unfamiliar city at night. Rame could go on and on about how friendly and neutral Mandalorians were, but she still didn't trust them to mind their manners given their apparent dislike toward outsiders. She rested her hands on her hips and said, "Will you at least leave me a gun?"

Rame nodded and unholstered the pistol at his hip. He handed it to her, butt-first. "Be careful where you point it."

“Don’t worry about me.” She took it and quickly checked the ammo counter, tibanna charge, and the general condition of the sidearm. "I’ve had three years with small arms training in the navy and spent weekends bird hunting on Corellia before that. I know my way around a blaster."

"Nice to know you brought some kind of combat experience to the table. It'll make you easier to train."

She tucked the pistol into her belt and covered it with her old uniform jacket. "I taught myself what was necessary. If I was shot down during an operation, I needed to be able to defend myself."

"Good thinking." Rame nodded toward the tapcaf. "Come on. Let's get you settled."

He led her across the street and held open the door, ushering her inside. As she entered the _Oyu_ _’baat_ , Jay was hit with a blast of sound. She heard beings - men, women, and otherwise – talking, laughing, and even heatedly arguing. Scattered around the tapcaf were tables, benches, and even rugs where patrons could sit on the floor to do their business. Along the walls were curved booths offering more privacy.

The tapcaf was packed to the brim with patrons. Like the spaceport, there were Mandos of all shapes, sizes, and colors all packed into a space tighter than the officer’s mess aboard a Star Destroyer. They drank, had competitions of strength with each other, or just sat talking. Jay spotted more than a few speaking in hushed tones in darkened booths near the back and gave them a wide berth; whatever they were talking about was obviously private and she didn't want to get involved.

Also like the spaceport, she saw a varying number of species. Twi’leks and Zabraks seemed to be the most common, but there were also multi-eyed Gran, horned Devoronians, and more than one diminutive, masked Gand Findsman.  A Zeltron leaned against the bar, nursing a crystal glass of some dark liquid, watching the interior of the bar with narrowed eyes and a hip canted seductively to one side. A pair of Trandoshans were barking and hissing angrily in one corner, saliva dripping in long ropy trails from their sharp-toothed maws. Over it all a single man was shouting, "All right, all right everyone! Last call! Last call!"

A few of the more inebriated patrons groaned their disapproval, but the same man, who was standing behind the bar, shouted, "No, no, none of that. I have a life too, you know! Last call! Get your last-minute drinks before I lock up the liquor cabinet!"

Rame hadn't been lying when he'd said this place was the crossroads of Keldabe; it looked as if half the city was packed into the tapcaf. The building was deceptively larger than it looked and the branching rooms to the left and right of the central area served to pack in even more customers. Antique-looking server droids buzzed back and forth, while living tapcaf staff also darted about taking orders or delivering food and drink to the bar-goers.

The man who had spoken earlier, obviously the bartender, was cleaning a dinged and dented metal drink mug. A long cook's apron was draped over the front of his armor, smeared with gravy and other stains that looked suspiciously like blood. He had long gray hair that hung to his shoulders and a thin, serious face.

"Aramis!" Rame called, wading through the sea of armor plates. He waved to the bartender, trying to get his attention. "Aramis!"

The bartender looked up and stared around at his surroundings with narrowed eyes. When his gaze fell on Rame, he relaxed and nodded in greeting. Rame fought his way to the bar, politely pushing aside other Mandos as he went. Jay followed as closely as she could, careful not to disturb any of the armored soldiers that surrounded her.

Once he reached the bar, Rame put his hands on the bartop and said, "I need to rent a room for the night. If you can, I'd prefer if you keep it quiet."

The bartender set down the mug, frowned at Jay, and said, "Rame. I'm disappointed in you. Mia's a great gal, and you won't find me keeping your secret. I was at your wedding, remember?"

Rame glanced at Jay, then back to Aramis with narrowed eyes. "You think I'm cheating on my wife? Why you stuck up little..."

Jay stared worriedly between the two, wondering what kind of trouble she'd caused here. She may have already been responsible for Vhetin being summoned by the Imperials. She didn't want to cause any more problems.

But after a moment Rame cracked a grin, then burst out laughing. He reached forward and clasped the bartender's arm at the elbow in a brotherly handshake. "It's good to see you again, Aramis."

"Likewise," the bartender said, his face still stony and impassive. "I heard about the Imps taking Vhetin away. Bad bit of luck, that."

"Word travels fast," Rame said. He stepped back and indicated his companion. "This here is Jay, our guest for the foreseeable future. I'd like to get her a room here for a while, just till she can get settled."

"Room twelve is clean and ready for  _aruetii_ visitation, I think."

"Thanks,  _vod_ ," Rame said, patting the bartop with one hand. He turned to Jay with a reassuring grin. "Aramis is a good man. He'll keep an eye on you, don't worry."

Jay watched the man glare at an inebriated bar patron and trade some tense, no doubt insulting words. He then returned to scrubbing his dinged and dented mug. Jay wrung her hands and said, "I'm not sure I got that impression, but I'll defer to your judgment."

"You'll be fine," Rame reassured her. "I'll be around tomorrow morning at dawn to pick you up. If you're up to it, we'll start your training then."

Jay nodded, feeling a bit of excitement stir in her gut at the thought of her training beginning so soon. Again, she was struck with the same mix of exhilaration and worry she now felt every time she'd thought of her future as a bounty hunter. "All right," she said. "I'll be here."

"I'll be off then." He replaced his stylized helmet and tapped two fingers against his forehead in a jaunty salute to the bartener. "Aramis, it’s always a pleasure."

The bartender waved the dirty mug in farewell and the bounty hunter turned and left the tapcaf, disappearing into the busy city. Jay watched him turn a corner and vanish from sight, and found herself truly alone for the first time in months.

It was a strange sensation, granting her simultaneous feelings of freedom and fear. She fidgeted, suddenly unsure what to do with herself. She couldn’t exactly strike up a conversation with the locals, and she didn’t want anyone paying too close attention to her. Her gaze wandered across the cantina, taking in all the sights and sounds so different from those she was used to. She felt out of place and more than a little scared.

Thankfully, the patrons were now beginning to trickle out of the tapcaf and disappear into the city. A few stuck around until the bitter end, waiting for one last drink before the staff closed up. The Trandoshan pair continued their heated, drooling debate until a battered-looking serving droid shooed them from their booth and out the door. The Zeltron leaning against the bar flipped Aramis a credit chit, shot Jay a mischievous grin as she passed, and swaggered out into the night.

Within the span of a few short minutes, there were less than ten people left in the building, not including the staff. Jay was amazed at how many people had truly been crammed into the tapcaf, as well as how quickly they had vanished when told.

"We're closing up shop early today," Aramis explained suddenly from behind her. "Repairs to the building. I’m guessing that might make you feel a little more comfortable."

She nodded quickly and quickly glanced down at her shoes. Aramis either didn't notice her discomfort or didn’t care. He just swung his wash cloth over his shoulder jerked his head, motioning for her to follow. "This way, _aruetii._ I'll show you your room."

He led her up a small set of stairs at the back of the bar, tucked away from the main flow of traffic across the tapcaf. It led up to a second floor, little more than a simple long corridor with doors on either side of the hall. It reminded Jay of the interior of  _Void,_  but at the end of the hallway there was a balcony overlooking the city instead of the hatch to an engine maintenance room.

Aramis pushed open the door to Room Twelve. Inside was a simple living space: a washbasin with a large mirror against one wall, a simple cot next to it, a wooden desk on the opposite wall, and a large window covered by thin wooden shades. Like everything else in Keldabe, it was all a little shabby.

"Enjoy your stay," the old bartender growled. "And if anyone bothers you, fire off a warning shot first and I'll get someone up here to get rid of them. We're a pretty decent bunch, but we do get the occasional random loony. Every town’s got ‘em, right?"

Jay didn’t smile at the halfhearted joke. "All right."

She hesitantly followed him back down to the bar, hoping to grab something to eat before getting some rest. After all the excitement of the day, her stomach was beginning to grumble loudly. As much as she craved a warm bed and a solid ten hours of sleep, her body told her that it craved a meal even more.

Downstairs, almost all of the Mandos had cleared out, and the few that remained were cleaning up. She watched them sweeping, setting chairs up on tables, and wiping down eating booths. From what she could see, those left were a mixture of bar staff and people staying at the tapcaf; no doubt helping out to work off some of their bill. Aramis took his place behind the bar slowly, like an old king ascending to his throne, and returned to cleaning dishes.

"Get you dinner,  _aruetii_?" he grunted, not looking at her.

She let out a quiet sigh of relief. He’d read her mind. "If it's not too much... uh... trouble..."

With a sickly wash of worry, she suddenly realized that she couldn't pay. The Empire had no doubt liquidated her credit account when they branded her a traitor, and she couldn't risk trying to access it now. If someone was watching the account, they might be able to track her to this planet.  She was very literally penniless.

For a moment, she considered the sign outside:  _BARTER ACCEPTED_. Trade was always a good alternative when credits ran dry. But she didn't have anything to trade apart from the pistol Rame had given her and she wasn't about to give that away for dinner.

Aramis raised an eyebrow, seemingly reading her mind. "Can't pay?"

Blushing furiously, she shook her head.

"Have anything to barter with?"

"Um..."

Aramis grunted and turned back to his dingy cup. "Fine. Since you're Rame's guest I'll charge it to his account."

"No, I don't want to be-"

"I’ll hear none of that.” The bartender interrupted her. “Omotao wouldn’t want to see a friend to go hungry. He won't mind, at least not unless you get drunk on  _net'ra gal_ and buy the entire tapcaf out from under me. Any chance of that happening?"

She shook her head quickly. "Not a chance."

"Then find yourself a seat. I'll send you a plate."

“I…” She was surprised by his generosity and still more than a little embarrassed at her inability to pay. “I don’t know what to say.”

“ _Thank you_ is usually a good place to start.”

“Right. Of course. Thank you.”

“Don’t mention it. Now find yourself a seat before the droids finish cleaning up for the night.”

She was about to turn toward the tables when Aramis suddenly glanced up and frowned at her, his blue eyes narrowed. "Now that I’ve got a good look at you… you seem familiar. Have we had you on Mandalore before?"

Jay shook her head. "No, this is the first time I've been on this planet."

"Hmm..." he said again. He shuffled around and consulted a wall-mounted datapad behind the bar, scrolling through lines of text with one calloused, worn finger. After a moment, he clapped his hands and said, "Ah, _that_ 's it."

He turned back and leaned on the counter, setting aside the dirty mug and his cleaning rag. There was something about the motion Jay didn’t like.

"You are Jayshiea Kolta," he said matter-of-factly. "Wanted alive for six thousand credits for involvement in the destruction of BlueSend Naval Base and Prison, Javilion Forest, Corulag. A hefty sum for such a scrawny thing, if you ask me."

Jay blanched, her blood turning to ice water in her veins. That datapad was a bounty database! She had been stupid to think it was safe here, among _bounty hunters_ of all things. For all she knew, Rame was trying to gain her trust just so he could turn her in without a fight. Her hand drifted to the pistol hidden on her belt. She wouldn't be taken back in without a fight. She wouldn’t go back to Corulag, with its endless lightning storms, dirty prisons, and… and _him_ _…_

A passing woman in red and blue armor saw the motion and quickly grabbed her arm. "Easy there,  _aruetii_. Don’t go blasting up our favorite bartender. Aramis is just messing with you."

The bartender smiled the slightest bit, nothing but the very corner of his mouth twitching upward. "You've got quite a criminal record, Miss Jayshiea Kolta. It’s a privilege to service such a storied bounty target here."

"What?" she asked, and pulled her arm from the Mandalorian's grasp. She didn't even bother to correct the bartender's use of her full first name. "What do you mean? You’re not going to arrest me?"

Aramis frowned at her, as if she were missing some important inside joke. "You've been on Mandalore for a grand total of… what?"

"A couple hours."

"A couple hours," the bartender echoed, "and you think all of us here obey Imperial law? We've got criminal fugitives throughout Keldabe, even right here in the  _Oyu'baat_. Most of ‘em have even bigger scores on their heads than you, Miss Kolta.”

“Then…” she licked her suddenly-dry lips, choosing her words carefully. “Then why don’t you go after them? You people do work as bounty hunters, right?”

“Some of us,” Aramis said. “But Mandalore is neutral soil. Not to mention, Omotao vouches for you.”

“So that’s it? Set foot on Mandalore and suddenly no one cares who you are?”

“That’s exactly it. You’re on _Manda_ _’yaim_ now, in the company of a respected _mando_ _’ad_ warrior. That grants you certain… amenities.”

When she continued to stare at him with an uncomprehending gaze, he sighed and rested his forearms on the bar. “Once you get here, Miss Kolta, no one cares what kind of record you have. No one cares if you’re an Imperial or a Hutt Enforcer or a Black Sun Vigo. Once you're here and you plan to say, the slate is wiped clean."

"That's... awfully forgiving of you."

"An old Mandalorian custom. A tradition of leaving behind your past to better embrace your future. It's a big part of our culture. We even have our own word for it. We call it _cin vhetin:_ white snow, a virgin field upon which to start your story over again."

Jay jumped at that. The words were different, pronounced in a slightly different manner, but they were obviously the same phrase. Ignoring her surprise, Aramis nodded at her respectfully and said, "I'll send a plate over to whatever table you choose, Miss Kolta. Off you go."

Jay turned away with a quiet murmur of thanks, still pondering over this new revelation about the man who had saved her life.  _So Vhetin is named after that Mandalorian phrase? About erasing your past? Interesting..._

As she slowly eased herself into a seat to wait for her dinner, she finally began to relax. She was still nervous and uncomfortable, but she knew she was safe enough to let her guard down for the moment. She was safe here, from the Empire at the very least. If the grizzled old bartender was to be believed, this was a place she could truly begin anew. A place she could start fresh, free of the terrible events of her past. She’d be lying if she said the idea wasn’t a little comforting.

And between Vhetin, Rame, and Aramis, she could safely say this was certainly the strangest, most screwed-up community she'd seen yet. And she’d done a naval tour around Mygeeto, home of the infamous lemur people, the Lurmen. She rested her head in her hands, feeling exhaustion tug at her eyelids.

_These Mandalorians just get more and more confusing by the hour._


	5. Meeting the Governor

It took hours for Vhetin to get through all the security at the Imperial base on Concordia, Mandalore's medium-sized moon. It was a definite annoyance but, seeing as the base was situated in the Mandalore system, Vhetin could understand the Empire's desire for top-notch security. Mandalorians weren't exactly lovers of Imperial rule and had lots of guns to back up their opinion.

He was pushed through voiceprint scanners, palm readers, and security posts where he was forced to turn in all his weapons, which constituted almost 40 percent of his armor. When he was ushered to one of the final checkpoints, the retinal scanner, he flat-out refused to remove his helmet for the Imperials to administer the test. Annoyed by his defiance, the stormtrooper guards got the clever idea to try and take him into their custody. The situation quickly degraded into a flat-out fight, one for which the stormtroopers were woefully unprepared.

"Sir," the weaponless stormtrooper said a tense thirty seconds later, holding his hands up in surrender. "I must insist-"

"Don't you know anything about us  _Mando'ade_?" Vhetin asked, holding the trooper's weapon and aiming it at the man’s pristine white chest plate. "How impolite it is to tell a Mando to remove his helmet? Even more so to  _force_  him to remove his helmet?"

An officer appeared through a side door. Vhetin swiveled to face the man, weapon raised, and the man started and held his hands up in a placating posture.

"Sir," the officer gasped, "the garrison commander has cleared you for access. You can go through."

Vhetin calmly straightened and tossed the weapon back to the trooper. "Next time, don't be so insistent. I still wouldn't have taken off my helmet, but you would have had a much nicer time."

One of the troopers – one of the lucky few who had stayed out of the fight – snickered behind his helmet. Then Vhetin followed the officer through the security station and deeper into the outpost. After one more security station, he suddenly found himself in the all-too-familiar area of the garrison commander's office.

The office was a typical Imperial setup: holonet monitors flanked either end of the room, relaying troop commands, orders, or new information to the governor. A luxurious nexu-fur rug, brazenly imprinted with the Mandalorian sigil, the mythosaur skull, was draped across the floor. A large picture window stretched across the far wall, revealing a panoramic landscape of Concordia: all harsh, angular mountains and boxy mining facilities.

The commander himself, a portly man by the name of Ne'al Utam, was sitting at his desk in the center of the room, absorbed in a stack of paperwork. At the sound of the armored entrance door sheathing open, he looked up from the flimsiplast report in his hand. When he saw Vhetin being escorted in, a deep sneer crossed his face.

He quickly stood and gestured to the officer with a meaty hand. "Leave us."

The officer saluted, spun on his heel, and left the room. Vhetin watched him leave, arms folded across his chest and a single eyebrow raised behind his helmet faceplate. After the doors had slid closed once again, he pivoted back to face Utam.

"You rang, Garrison Commander?"

Utam scowled deeper and turned to face the large window. The Imperials apparently thought the view of a Concordian desert valley was aesthetically pleasing. To Vhetin, it just looked dry and dead. He could see why it would attract an Imp’s liking; the messy collection of mining facilities and Imperial garrisons made it easy to believe that the entire Mandalore sector was under their complete control. A quick stroll down on _Manda_ _’yaim’s_ surface would quickly prove otherwise.

The garrison commander finally spoke in his thin, reedy voice. "Your appointment has put me at quite a large inconvenience. I have a meeting I must attend aboard the  _Indomitable_ in orbit and I will now almost certainly be late."

Vhetin sighed in frustration. He disliked Utam more and more every time he met the man, and it seemed this time would be no exception to that rule. "I'm sorry if I'm intruding on your busy schedule, Commander," he said, taking great effort to not sound sorry at all, "but you called me here, not the other way around."

Utam turned to face him, his face pulling down in an even deeper scowl. "Yes… Tell me, bounty hunter, have you been paying attention to the HoloNet recently?"

"I've been in hyperspace for the last day," he replied. "So no."

"Hmm." Utam sounded disappointed. "Well, it has just come to my attention that a formerly top-secret naval base on Corulag was attacked a few days ago. Casualties were in the high thirties."

"Really?" Vhetin asked, deadpan. “Not many folks in the galaxy who could pull _that_ off.”

Utam’s sneer deepened. "The security cameras happen to show one Captain Tammer courageously driving off a Mandalorian insurgent whose armor profile almost exactly matched your own."

"Almost?" Vhetin repeated.

"Yes, almost."

"So you suspect me?"

"I do," Utam said, narrowing his eyes.

"Well, Commander," Vhetin said with a sigh, "I'm not sure if I'm up to scratch with Imperial investigative protocol, but I don't think  _it almost looks like him_  is grounds for arrest. Besides, I was shipping cargo for a mining company outside of Klaxus for the past week. You can check with my employers if you need to."

It was a lie of course. If someone _did_ try to contract the mining company, the call would be rerouted through to a Mandalorian company whose sole business was providing fake cover stories for outgoing bounty hunters. Vhetin had purchased the Klaxus mining gig alibi before ever setting out for Corulag, knowing the mission would likely draw unwanted Imp attention.

"You misunderstand. I haven't brought you here to arrest you." Utam tilted his head, hands still clasped behind his back. "I am simply offering you a warning: I am on to you, bounty hunter. You won’t be able to evade justice for long."

"Remember that little detail called _evidence_ , Commander." Vhetin was unable to keep a smug note from his voice. "I haven't done anything to piss you guys off. And unless you have proof that says otherwise, you can't hold me here."

"Evidence?" Utam growled, opening a drawer in his desk and yanking out a fat filing folder stuffed with reports. " _Evidence_? How is this for evidence?"

He slapped the file on the desk, pulled it open, and began reading.

"Imperial Center,” he began, “four years ago: a black-armored Mandalorian breaks into an Imperial medcenter and steals a prototype genetic virus targeting the inhabitants of the rebellious system Tarishaw as well as all related data regarding the virus. The virus and all the data vanishes.

"Manaan, two years ago: a visiting admiral is kidnapped from the local military base by a black-armored Mandalorian. The very same admiral was recovered several months later, enslaved to a Black Sun operative.

"Nar Shadda, four months ago: an undercover Imperial agent attempting to infiltrate Black Sun was found critically paralyzed in a back alley of the planet's underworld. He had been shot in the neck with a Dathomiri saberdart infused with venom that would most probably match the venom  _you_  yourself utilize. But as it is, you have refused to relinquish your weapons for analysis; a very suspicious decision if you ask me."

"To some extent, a bounty hunter is like a magician," Vhetin said, having carefully thought out his response to just this kind of question. "I won't allow my methods to leak out. If I did, I'd have a thousand beings copying my hunting style within the week. Then I'd be framed for even more jobs than I am now."

Utam tapped the folder. "I have over one hundred different occurrences potentially linking you to rebel employers, Mandalorian. And if-"

Vhetin interrupted forcefully. "I can't be held responsible for every so-called  _crime_ committed by a Mandalorian in black armor."

"Well-"

He interrupted again. "And are you going to make an arrest because of armor style? Because it doesn't matter how many planets are under your supervision, Commander, a case based solely on profiling still won't stand up under fire. We Mandos may not be well-loved in the galaxy, but there still aren't many courts that would listen to your so-called _evidence_."

Utam slammed his fist on the desk, short-circuiting the holographic words on a few sheets of flimsiplast. "Damn it, Vhetin! I have overwhelming evidence that paints you as a rebel sympathizer, at worst a traitor and a terrorist. I may have decided to overlook the standing warrant for your arrest due to your connections planetside, but I will _not_ have you committing crimes against the Empire right under my nose! And if I can ever prove  _any_ of these suspicions, I'll personally appoint myself as your executioner!"

Vhetin chuckled dryly. "Tell you what, Utam: if that day ever comes, I'll come quietly if you can catch me."

Utam's face began to turn a satisfying shade of purple. His hands were quivering as he balled them into fists and sat in his chair once more.

"Let's get something straight, shall we?" he snapped, "I don't like you. And I know for a fact that you don't like me."

"Is that on a personal level or generally, sir? Because – and I hate to break this to you – there are  _lots_ of people who don't like you. Lots of people with really big guns."

Utam's brow furrowed dangerously. "Is that a threat?"

"A simple observation of your current popularity ranking on Mandalore," Vhetin replied. "Now was there some other reason you called me up here besides pointing out all the trouble my fellow black-armored  _vode_ are stirring up within the Empire at large? Because I've got more important things to do than sit around and be accused of crimes I never committed."

"Funnily enough, there was another reason," Utam said, finally looking pleased. "All the prisoners and staff at the BlueSend prison are accounted for save two: General Ponsius Luun, the suspected target, and one Jayshiea Kolta, a Death Row prisoner. Now this  _vode_  of yours-"

 _Vod_ , Vhetin mentally corrected the Imperial, rolling his eyes.

"-seems to have kidnapped the General and taken him Force-knows where. But this Kolta woman — a no-one really — is nowhere to be found."

"What's your point?"

"Did you smuggle her to your precious haven, Mandalore? Trying to keep her safe from us?"

Vhetin sighed. "Sir, try to stay focused. We've already established that I wasn’t there. Why would I want her?"

"Why do you Mandalorians do anything? For profit!"

Vhetin sighed. "You can check with the bomber crew that picked me up from my ship: there were only two life-forms aboard. Besides, if she truly is a no-one then who would be willing to pay for her? No profit margin for me or my kind, there. And we’re not exactly in the business of rescuing damsels in distress."

He secretly thanked the fact that he had those hidden weapons caches. Anything stored within was shielded from Imperial scanners. Any kind of scanner, in fact. It had saved his life on many occasions, and it looked like now it was saving his neck again — and Jay’s.

"Who was the other life form?" Utam demanded.

"My copilot, Rame Omotao. He brought the ship down after I left. And if my word isn't good enough for you, you can always ask the Imp goons down in Keldabe Ground Control who're supervising the  _real_  GC officers. They'll say the same thing."

Utam was so furious that he looked as if his head was about to explode. He'd turned bright red and his fists shook on the desktop. Vhetin had to hold back a laugh and instead nonchalantly asked, "Is there anything else? Because as it is, I'm looking at another five hours getting back through security before I can get home."

Utam's hands were shaking as he pointed to the door and growled, "Get out."

Vhetin saluted lazily as he turned and headed for the door. Once there, he paused and turned back to the commander. "Oh and I'll need a lift to Keldabe, since you didn't even give me the courtesy of flying my own ship up here."

The door slid shut on a furious Governor Utam, and Vhetin smiled with satisfaction. Another sunset, another Imperial outwitted. With this streak, he should be able to strike the Empire a serious blow within a few hundred years at least. Not much progress, but progress nonetheless.

The important thing was that he and Rame were in the clear and his new guest, Jay, was safe from Imperial suspicion. That made it a good day by anyone's standards.


	6. Who Is That Mysterious Masked Man?

**_Oyu'baat_ ** **** **tapcaf, Keldabe, Mandalore**

The night brought more fear, and more nightmares of Darth Vader. Jay woke once more, drenched in cold sweat with her heart racing as if it wanted to burst from her chest and bounce away.

The same dream: Vader torturing her, beating her with invisible hands and demanding that she reveal her nonexistent accomplice before revealing that it was all just for show. That he was only doing this to her to pressure other potential traitors into following orders.

She tried to sleep afterward, but managed nothing more than a fitful doze that left her feeling more exhausted than when she’d gone to bed the night before. Knowing that further attempts to sleep would be met with the same failure, Jay rose early, eager to get out of the decaying city and into the more rural areas of the planet she'd seen from orbit.

Rame had told her that she would begin training today if she was up to it. She honestly didn’t know if she was; she was exhausted, mentally strained, and still a little sore from the events on Corulag. But she wasn't about to let that slow her down. Anything that could help her get back at the people who'd branded her a traitor was worth the effort. And the pain.

She dressed quickly and gathered her minuscule amount of belongings, tucking her borrowed pistol back into her belt and covering it with her old uniform jacket, now stripped of its ranking bars. The bars had made her skin crawl and her blood pump furiously every time she saw them. They were nothing but a reminder of all that she'd lost and everything that had been taken from her. She didn't need that hanging over her head. Not anymore.

She glanced at a chrono on the wall: apparently it was still pretty early in the morning. Through the window, the distant horizon was just beginning to show the first traces of dawn. Most people she knew would either still be asleep or just rolling out of bed. She herself wanted nothing more than to curl back up under her covers. But she knew nothing but more nightmares awaited her there.

As she headed down into the cantina below, she saw that here the day was already well underway in the _Oyu_ _’baat_. The cantina's main room was once again crowded with humans, Mandalorians, and assorted aliens — armored and unarmored alike. A beat-up holo-monitor in once corner was showing what looked like the local news, spoken in a language she couldn't understand.

A human male was giving a report about what looked like the prison siege on Corulag. When it showed the blurry image of a man in Mandalorian armor sitting on the branch of a tree, the room broke out in scattered cheers and applause. She heard several repeated words like " _Oya_ ," and " _Kandosii, Ram'ika_." Then the news chanced to what looked like a sports broadcast, which drew far more attention than the outpost siege.

As she approached the bar, Aramis looked up, wiping down the same cup as the night before. If she didn't know better, she would have found it easy to believe he had been scrubbing at that mug all night.

"Mornin'," Aramis grunted to her as she approached the bar. He didn’t even look up as she approached. How he knew it was her, she couldn’t begin to guess. "Get you breakfast,  _aruetii_?"

She politely declined and murmured, "Have you seen Rame Omotao? From last night? He was supposed to meet me here."

Aramis shook his head, his long gray hair waving back and forth as he did. "He isn't here. Said he’s got some farm issues to clear up, so he sent Vhetin to pick you up instead. He's waiting for you over there, in the back corner."

He leaned forward and quietly added, "If you're going to train with Vhetin, though, you're definitely going to want a good breakfast in you. Give you more strength."

She didn't like the ominous sound of the words, but decided it was just the bartender trying to psych her out. So she relented and said, "Okay. Have you at least got some clean dishes?"

For the first time since she'd met him, for what looked like the first time in years, Aramis' intense, craggy face broke into a wide grin. "I do," he said. "But it'll cost extra."

Despite herself, Jay found herself grinning back. "I'll take whatever is quickest to make, but still edible."

He nodded and jerked his head toward the tables. "I'll bring it over when you're done talking. In the meantime, you'd better get going. You don't want to keep Stripes waiting."

She nodded and waded her way through the sea of armor towards the back corner table. Before she got close, however, she decided to duck behind a tall Mando in the crowd and search for the Mandalorian. He was still a bit of a mystery to her, and anything she could find out about him could only benefit her. She stepped behind a tall man in blue armor, who was standing with his back turned to her, and stared out from around the man's shoulder.

It didn't take long to find him. He stood out even among his fellow mercenaries. He was sitting at a low table near the northern wall of the tapcaf, fully armored, next to the large fireplace. His arms were folded across his chest and he was staring out into the crowd absently, leaned back in his chair with his legs folded casually. His foot bounced slightly, as if to the beat of music.

Something about him still made Jay uncomfortable, and it was apparently no secret; even a few other Mandalorians were giving the hunter a fairly wide berth. A few gave him quiet greetings, to which he nodded silently in return. He didn't seem to notice her approaching and simply watched as if he was carved from duracrete. She began to think he wasn’t paying attention at all when his helmeted gaze suddenly zeroed in on her like she was holding a homing beacon. Her heart skipped a beat when that helmeted stare finally fell on her.

He stood, nodding politely in her direction. As she stepped around the big blue Mandalorian she was using as cover, pretending she had just arrived, he held out his hand to her in greeting.

"Jay, right?” he said with a slight bow of his head. “It's good to see you got settled in."

She cautiously shook his hand. The last time she'd seen the man, he had been piloting his ship just before the Empire had "requested his presence" and spirited him away to the colonized moon of Concordia. Would he be angry with her about the inconvenience? He didn't seem to be.

"So I take it you got all that Imperial business sorted out?" she asked, trying to be polite.

He nodded. "I managed to escape without serious injury, yes. And your cover is officially solid. The Empire has no clue you're down here. You’re safe."

"Thank you." She was genuinely grateful. Ever since she'd been sprung from prison, this man and his red-armored companion had given her almost everything: a place to stay, money for food, and a chance at a new future. She was beginning to see why Tammer had trusted them so deeply.

"Just part of the job," he said. "How was your stay at the  _Oyu'baat_?"

"It's more comfortable than it looks," she replied. It was true, too. The  _Oyu'baat_ presented a misleading face. She'd been genuinely surprised to find that the rooms within the scruffy-looking tapcaf were a little disheveled, but clean, warm, and comfortable.

Vhetin sat back and settled into his earlier position, leaning back in his chair. "Rame sends his apologies, but he's got some farm equipment malfunctioning and he can't pick you up himself. He sent me to take you out to the farm so we can begin training."

"Is it all right if I eat something first?" she asked, taking the seat opposite him.

He nodded. "It's fine. I still have some business to attend to in Keldabe before we leave. I was just waiting here so you'd know there was someone to take you out to the farm."

"That was kind.”

Vhetin didn’t acknowledge the praise. Instead, he opened one of his many belt pouches and offered her a handheld comlink, then stood from his seat. "Contact me on that when you're ready to head out. Calling number is nine-zero-three-four-two-one."

"Okay," she said. "Can I ask what business you're attending to?"

"Info run," he said curtly. "Nothing that concerns you."

Then he turned and disappeared into the crowd. She watched him through the _Oyu_ _’baat’s_ main window as he stalked resolutely across the plaza outside. Then he turned a corner, the wind catching his _kama_ as he did, and was lost from sight.

She frowned after him, more than a little startled by his sudden disappearance. But before she could think too much on the matter,  Aramis appeared holding a bowl of a lumpy gray porridge with dark scarlet sauce.

"Easy breakfast with  _clean dishes_ , as ordered,” the bartender said. “ _Haili cetare_."

She quickly thanked him and pulled the dish closer, stomach grumbling at the rich smell of the porridge. As Aramis was about to leave, however, she touched his arm to stop him.

"That man…” she slowly asked. “Who is he?"

"Who?" Aramis looked around the tapcaf. "Stripes? Oh, he's one of them  _beroyas._  Bounty hunters. He's one of the more well-known Mandos galaxy-wide as far as effectiveness goes. He's right up there with ol' _Bob'ika_  – uh, that would probably be Boba Fett to you, or  _you bastard_ if you ever actually met him on a hunt."

He narrowed his eyes at her. “I’d have figured you would have known that already. You’ve been traveling with him for the past few days, right?”

"But who  _is_ he?" she pressed. "I mean, he broke me out of prison. I'd like to know why."

Aramis frowned thoughtfully. "I can't honestly say. He's a bit of a mystery to everyone. Some people say he's Rame's adopted son, and others believe he's a more recent conversion to the Mandalorian way of life. All I know is that he's freaky fast with any kind of blade and downright terrifying with one of them  _jetti'kads_."

" _Jetti'kads_?" Jay echoed, clumsily repeating the foreign word.

Aramis nodded. "Yes. A lightsaber? I’ve seen him practicing with one he made himself. The blade comes out of the top of a staff about this high," he indicated a height about shoulder-level, "and it can slice the arms off a rancor monster, I'd be willing to bet."

"Does he have any family?" she asked, staring at the spot where the black-clad man had disappeared. "You know, a brother, a girlfriend, a son or daughter? Something like that?"

The bartender shrugged. "Not really any family that I know of. Not that surprising when it comes to converts. Although he does have a bit of a thing with Brianna."

"Brianna? Who's that? Another bounty hunter?"

"Yeah, she's another bounty hunter.  _Aruetii,_  but good enough with a gun for that not to matter much. She lives near the outskirts of Keldabe, just outside the second barrier wall. Charming girl. Almost as good a  _beroya_ as Vhetin himself. It's no wonder he likes her. But then again, most of that's just rumor."

"And what about fact?" she asked.

"Not much in the way of fact when it comes to Stripes. Some people say he likes it that way. Builds up the mystique of his character, you know? Others say even  _he_ doesn't know who he really is. And a few think he’s some kind of robot under all that armor. He never takes that blasted helmet off, so who can really tell?”

She sighed and rolled her eyes. “Charming. Isn’t there anything, you know, _real_ you can tell me?”

Aramis cocked his head, thinking hard. “I know he's a loner. Doesn't really talk much, except to Rame and Brianna and a few others. Serves with the Protectors when the need arises, but then so do most around these parts. Some people say he used to hunt fugitive Jedi, but I think that's just because of the whole lightsaber thing. He's got a mind of metal and a heart of ice, that one, as well as an instinct for hunting. He's a natural at what he does."

Jay shuddered slightly and thought _, And what he does is hunt people_ _for money._

"Can he be trusted?"

Aramis stared at the door to the tapcaf, a thoughtful frown creasing his craggy face. "Now that is a very good question. And it's one I don't think anyone here has the answer to. I don't hunt, so I personally don't know him well enough to have an opinion. But I know he is fiercely proud of being a Mando and that a lot of people around here trust him. Apart from that-"

"He's a patriot?"

Aramis shrugged. "He’s just proud to be Mandalorian. But he's also a little strange, you know? There’s something about him… it’s a little off-putting."

"Yeah, I got that impression as well," she agreed. "He is different."

"The offhand term for it, I believe, is  _badass_. Enjoy your breakfast."

The gray-haired tender turned back to his place at the bar, where a gray-green armored Mando was calling for him. Jay frowned as she began to eat, more worried than enlightened.


	7. Sparring Match

**Somewhere outside Keldabe, Mandalore**

A half-hour later, she was racing over the countryside on a rented speeder bike, flying for Rame's farm. Vhetin, a black-gray smear against the green landscape around him, was just ahead of her.

" _Try to keep up_ ," he said over the comlink he'd given her. She could barely hear his transmission over the wind roaring past her. " _Rame doesn't reward tardiness._ "

"I can handle myself on a bike," she told him. "But it would help if you gave me some better directions. As it is, I barely know which road we're on."

" _We're almost there_ ," he reassured her. " _Just keep tight on my tail and you'll be fine._ "

And with that, he gunned the engines of his bike and shot ahead. She cursed and raced after him, pushing the old bike as fast as it would go. After a few moments, they drew even once more.

"So tell me," she said. "Where exactly are we going?"

" _Rame's farm_ ," he replied. " _That's where you'll be training_."

"Yeah, I know that. Could you be more specific?"

Vhetin kept his gaze fixed on the road ahead of him. " _He works on a grassgrain farm that we've used as training grounds for years. I suspect Rame will show you around when we get there. It's really nothing special._ "

He sped past her again, obviously done talking, and she sighed and followed. After some time they passed around a small copse of trees and Jay saw the brown smear of buildings in the distance, surrounded by fields of waving grassgrain stalks.

" _That's it_ ," Vhetin said, pointing toward the buildings as he sped along the rough dirt road. " _That's the farm._ "

Rame was waiting for them on the edge of his land, a huge metal hydrospanner in one hand. The nearby building turned out to be a small house, with two large windows facing the road and several small sheds spread out around it in a rough half-circle. A much larger barn dominated the complex, with a central tower rising high up into the sky. The area between the house and the sheds was littered with farming equipment: repulsorlifts, hover-tractors, and threshers to name only a few. Most were in various states of disrepair, and one even had snake-like vines twining over its surface.

Rame was dressed in a dirty, oil-stained coverall over what looked like his armor's black bodysuit. After Jay had skidded to a halt, spraying mud everywhere as her bike wound down, he approached and rested the superspanner over his shoulder.

"You made good time getting here," he said, helping her off the bike. "How was your stay at the  _Oyu'baat_?"

"Fine," she replied, watching Vhetin hop off his own speeder and make instantly for a shed that was built behind the house. As he walked away, Jay saw a long, smooth staff hooked to the side of his rocket pack.

She instantly remembered Aramis' words:  _The blade comes out of the top of a staff about this high, and it could slice the arms off a rancor monster, I'd be willing to bet._

 _I guess some of what Aramis said about him is true,_ she thought to herself.  _But what about the rest? Was he really a Jedi hunter?_

If this man used to hunt down telekinetic, mind-reading, superhuman Jedi, that meant he was good at hiding how dangerous he truly was. She'd have to be careful around him. Despite everyone saying he was trustworthy, she couldn't shake the feeling that this man was a force to be reckoned with. She didn’t want to know what happened if she made an enemy of him.

Shaking such thoughts from her mind, she turned back to Rame with a smile. "Well, I'm ready for our training to start. How do you want to begin?"

Rame smiled and picked up his superspanner again. "Oh no. I'm not going to be the one training you. I'll provide whatever help I can, but it'll be Cin who teaches you."

Vhetin returned, seeming to melt out of thin air with a short metal sword in each hand. "To begin,” he said, “I'm going to teach you the ways of simple melee combat and basic hunting psychology. Tracking and fighting are some of the biggest parts of bounty hunting, and you’re not always going to have a gun at your side. After that, we'll take it to higher levels: marksmanship, heavy weapons, hand-to-hand combat, advanced hunting psychology, maybe even lightsaber combat."

"Wait, wait, I thought  _Rame_ was going to be teaching me," Jay interrupted. She had been under the impression that she would work under the tutelage of the friendly, charming Rame. Learning from his uncommunicative, slightly unnerving friend was another matter entirely.

"As skilled as Rame is, he's just a farmer at heart," Vhetin said, turning to look at his friend. "And I've had to pull him out of more tough spots than I care to remember."

"If you want to learn how to be a good hunter," Rame said, nodding and leaning on the huge superspanner, "you'll want to learn from Cin. Everyone, even the Empire, admits that he's one of the best in the business. A little trigger-happy if you ask me, but still..."

"I already told you, Rame," Vhetin growled, "that business on Ryloth wasn't my fault. They shot first."

"So you retaliate by blowing up an entire Imperial military bunker? Did you know the HoloNet report said that explosion caused millions of credits' worth of damage?"

"They still shot first," the black-armored man muttered. Then he turned to Jay and said, "Anyway, are you ready to begin?"

Jay hesitated managed a nervous smile. She'd have to take things as they were. She could hardly complain after all these two had given back to her. "All right, I’m in. When do we start?"

"Right now if you're up to it.”

She nodded. "I'm ready."

He nodded back, possibly in approval. "First I need to see what level of melee training you've had already and assess your technique. I think a simple sparring match will do just that. Follow me."

He turned to walk back towards the barn. Jay was about to follow, but Rame touched her arm as she passed.

"I just thought I'd warn you," he murmured, "Cin doesn't really have a... hmm, well, let's just say he won't go easy on you. It's not part of his mind set. He's going to give it all he's got."

"What?” Jay blanched. “Like he'll actually try to kill me?"

He shook his head. "No, he wouldn't take it that far. But expect to walk away from this with more than a few bruises. Just because you're new doesn't mean he's going to go easy on you. It’s… a kind of respect, if you can believe it."

"Right..." Jay glanced after Vhetin, growing more nervous by the second.

Rame managed an anxious smile and said, "Don't worry. This'll be a learning experience for the both of you. He's never taught anyone before."

She nodded again, more nervous than ever now. Rame let her go and motioned for her to follow the other bounty hunter, who had disappeared around the corner of the small house. As she turned the corner, she found a corral built into a duracrete pad, with lines and rough circles painted onto the ground.

 _Sparring boundaries_ , Jay assumed.  _The better you get, the smaller your fighting area. It's meant to test your skills._

Vhetin was standing in the center of the corral, head bowed as he waited for her. When she approached and ducked through the fence surrounding the corral, his head snapped up and he turned toward her.

"Are you ready to start?"

"No," she said, "but I won't get better just standing here, will I?"

"No," he cocked his head. "No you won't."

As she moved closer to the center of the corral, he picked up an armored vest and helmet from the ground near the fence. The vest consisted of what looked like a sleeveless leather jacket with four armor plates, arrayed into a rough hourglass shape. The helmet was similar to other Mandalorian helmets she'd seen around Keldabe, but was missing the flag-like rangefinder and had an open-faced T-visor.

" _Beskar_  sparring armor," he explained. "Lighter and not quite as durable as full  _beskar'gam_ , but it's not like anyone's going to be trying to kill you. Not yet."

She pulled the armored vest on, with Vhetin helping her tie it up the back. He tied it a little too tight for her to be comfortable, but she guessed it was supposed to be like that. Once he was finished, he walked back to the center of the corral and waited. When she pulled on the helmet, her chin almost dropped down onto her chest.

"Whoa! You call this light?" she said, pulling her head up with some effort.

The bounty hunter said nothing. He just waited for her to grow accustomed to the extra weight of the armor. When she had finally pulled her head up to look at him again, he quietly said, "Are you ready?"

She nodded, the heavy helmet making her head bob erratically. He pulled his jetpack off his shoulders and set it to one side, along with the staff that was clipped to it. He picked up the two simple-looking swords, handed one to her, and took three carefully measured steps back.

She hefted the blade between her hands. It was of medium weight, easily maneuverable, with a dulled blade. She had practiced a little with melee weapons when she had been hoping to enter the Imperial army, but she wasn't sure how her casual training would stand up to a bounty hunter like Vhetin.

 _Considering the fact that he uses lightsabers_ , she thought to herself,  _I'd be willing to bet he's pretty good with these simple things._

She expected him to practice or show off his skill to intimidate her. But surprisingly, he just stood there staring at her, blade pointed toward the ground. She was instantly uncomfortable, and shifted her balance from foot to foot.

She stammered, "U-um..."

Then the tip of his sword swung up and, in what seemed like the blink of an eye, he was right up in her face, clashing her sword against his with almost unbearable force. She was surprised by his sudden ferocity and almost lost her balance. The force of the blow quickly traveled up her arms, jarring her from her helmeted head right down to her feet.

But she quickly regained her wits and began to parry his ferocious attacks. This was slightly familiar territory; she remembered training against a sparring droid in her youth. It was an old pre-Clone Wars model, with blunted clubs for hands. It would do its best to attack her in short, jarring bursts of motion. She got pretty good at fighting against it, to the point that she believed herself a competent swordswoman.

This fight was nothing like that. The droid was fast, but also expertly measured. Every attack was precise and calculated, following a rhythm that Jay had quickly learned to watch. Vhetin showed no such rhythm. He slashed, retreated, pivoted on one foot and slashed from another direction before Jay could recover from parrying the first blow. His attacks were quick, brutal, and almost completely unpredictable.

She backpedaled frantically, trying to move out of his reach and regain her balance. He gave her no reprieve. He was right there, slashing and stabbing with tremendous power, almost overwhelming Jay from the start.

She had to pour all her concentration into knocking his blade away and parrying his attacks to her neck and abdomen. She didn't know what he'd do if he won, or even what he considered a win. He didn't look like he was just sparring. He looked like he was trying to kill her.

Then, to her surprise, she realized that he wasn't actually trying to hit her. Sometimes the blade would pass within inches of her arm or leg or head, but they were carefully measured to purposely miss. And as powerful as his blows were, she noticed that he subtly shifted his weight onto his heels with every strike, pulling back at the last moment to lessen the force of the attack.

 _What's his game_? she thought. Rame had specifically told her he  _wouldn't_  go easy on her. So what was he doing?

After a few of his false attacks, she decided to use that against him. If he wanted to go easy on her, that was fine. But she sure as hell wasn't going to go easy on him. She was going to show him exactly what she could do.

She began to genuinely attack him, barely trying to block his own feints. The corral was filled with the heavy sound of metal crashing against metal. She clenched her teeth, tightened her grip around her saber, and struck with a series of four quick attacks to his shoulders and chest.

She found all her efforts turned aside, every thrust and slash expertly dodged or parried. She frowned in confusion beneath her sparring helmet and doubled the speed of her attacks. She slashed and stabbed at him to the best of her ability, but he effortlessly deflected her clumsy blows, swinging her blade off to the side.

She swung horizontally with all her might, hoping to catch him hard in the shoulder and send him staggering off balance. Before the blow could land, his foot hooked behind her ankle and pulled. The world lurched out from under her and she landed heavily on her back, a grunt of surprise escaping her lips. The cold steel of a sword blade pressed against the unprotected part of her armor between her chin and her collarbone.

Within moments, the fight was over. Vhetin knelt next to her, holding his sword against her throat. She gasped for breath, shocked by the sudden end to the duel, and stared up at the pale blue sky. Her eyes watered and her arms throbbed.

"Why do you want to be a bounty hunter?" he asked suddenly. "I don't think it was your dream as a little kid to go crawling through the underbelly of the galaxy, dragging murderous, immoral scum behind you as you went."

"I've always been a sucker for the armor," she replied sarcastically.

"I'm serious.” The blade didn’t move. “Why did you choose to come with Rame and me instead of traveling on our own? I need a more in-depth explanation than _I want to punish those who wronged me._ "

She thought about that for a long time, uncomfortably aware of the sword blade still pressed to her neck. After a time, she shook her head and honestly replied, "I don't really know."

He nodded, as if that was all the answer he needed. He stepped back and allowed her enough room to get to her feet. She grunted, rolled over onto her stomach, and pressed a hand against the small of her back with a grimace, feeling pain race up her spine at even that slight motion. Vhetin moved back to his starting position in the center of the corral and tapped his blade against his metal shin plate expectantly.

"Bounty hunting is not for the weak of heart," he said quietly. He was staring at her through the expressionless faceplate of his helmet, she could tell. "And it is not simply something you turn to when you find yourself out of a job."

"For  _te_   _manda's_  sake," came an unknown voice from the edge of the corral. "Go easy on the woman, Stripes."

"In real life, your enemies don't  _go easy_ on you," Vhetin responded, glancing past Jay. "To do so in practice would just soften her up. Get her killed in real combat."

She looked behind her to see who had spoken and saw a new Mandalorian was present, this one dressed silver and blue armor. He was leaning against the fence, his helmet hung casually on a post nearby. His hands were covered by a pair of pale gray gloves made from some kind of delicate-looking leather. He was maybe in his forties or fifties, with a broad, hard-lined face and short stubble for hair. The face of a clone. She had seen faces like his throughout the navy for years.

He nodded to her and gave her a wide grin, throwing her a lazy salute from his casual position on the fence.

"Don't worry,  _aruetii_ ," he said in a familiar gravelly, accented voice. "Stripes may not go easy on you, but he won't kill you. At least not on purpose."

"That's a comfort," she said sarcastically as she pushed herself to her feet. Her muscles screamed in protest. "As long as it’s not on purpose."

The man ducked inside the corral and approached, drawing his own version of her short dueling sword from a sheath on his belt. "Here's a tip: when he attacks from below, try to use his own movement against him. I'll show you. Step in front of me and attack my legs like he was."

"Why do I get the feeling I'm going to end up on the ground again?" she muttered.

The man smiled and shook his head. "I won't hurt you. But attack slowly. I want you to see what this looks like."

She nodded, her brow furrowing in concentration, and slowly swung her weapon at his legs. He matched her slow pace and pushed her blade down and to the side, away from his right leg.

"Snap his blade away from your legs and step to the side," he said as he demonstrated, "out of the way. Don’t trap his sword, but instead push it out and away from your body. His momentum will send him flying past you like a nuna with a rocket up its ass and it'll leave him open for an attack to his back."

"Not if he hears your plan, he won't.” Vhetin was watching them intently.

"Then stop listening," the blue-armored man called. "Start blasting some of that Strap music you're so fond of."

Vhetin said nothing and pointedly continued to stare at them. The other man turned back to Jay and offered her his hand. She shook it and he introduced himself with a short and sarcastic bow.

"Jaing Skirata,” he said. “At your service, newcomer."

"Jay Kolta," she replied. The handshake was firm and friendly, and she couldn't help but smile. "And what do you do around here? Repair ships during the week and work as a Black Sun hit-man during the weekend? Serve drinks at the  _Oyu'baat_  and stir up a little galactic anarchy on your day off?"

"You seem to know us  _Mando'ade_ pretty well," he said. "But no. I just occasionally help Rame out around the farm. Bounty hunting’s my usual trade, but sometimes _Ram_ _’ika_ needs some extra hands to help keep things running ‘round here. Now do you want to send Vhetin flying or not?"

She nodded. "So... just step aside when he jumps at me? That seems pretty simple."

"Nothing is simple in melee combat," Jaing said and sheathed his sword. "Good luck,  _aruetii_. Don't forget to move his sword out of the way or he'll still manage to hit you."

She took a deep breath and stepped back towards Vhetin. The black-armored bounty hunter was standing as still as a durasteel post in the center of the corral, his sword blade held loosely in one hand.

"Ready?"

Her blade swung up. "Are  _you_ ready?"

He didn't reply and instead leaped forward just like before. She tried her best to follow Jaing's advice, but wasn't fast enough. In what seemed like seconds, Vhetin had knocked her blade aside, punched her in the gut, and tripped her again.

She lay on the ground again, holding her stomach and coughing. Vhetin stepped back to his earlier position with a bit more of a spring in his step. It made Jay's eyes widen in disbelief. He was  _enjoying_  himself!

She scrambled back to her feet, feeling anger course through her like a cloud of fire. Her hands quivered around the hilt of her sword in equal parts pain, exhaustion, and indignation.

"That was a good try," the bounty hunter said. "But not quite good enough."

She said nothing in return. She just mirrored his earlier motion, jumped forward, and hammered away at his sword.

Two more times she hit the ground. As she scrambled to her feet a third time, she let out a shout of anger and frustration and launched herself at him. She managed to land a weak punch at his helmet, but he just used the momentum to spin and come right back at her. He easily blocked her next furious attack, which landed so hard it sent a shower of sparks up through the air.

"Good,” he said. “Listen to your anger. It gives you strength, focus, in the heat of battle."

"You sound like a kriffing Sith," she snapped as she tried to stab at his stomach.

"The Sith's combat tactics worked," he said as he backpedaled toward the fence. He blocked the stab and whirled her all the way around with his counterattack. "To a point."

She let out a scream of rage and jumped at him again. He just stepped aside, using the same move Jaing had just showed her. She whipped around, intent to slash at his chest.

The blow never landed.

She turned to see him leap into the air, higher than she thought possible. Seemingly in slow motion, he pivoted at the hips and lashed out with a heavy boot, kicking her hard in the side of the helmet and sending her sprawling. She crashed against the fence then collapsed onto her stomach, ears ringing.

Normally such a blow would have floored her, keeping her down for quite a while as she regained her bearings and her composure. But something was different about her now. Her anger was pouring through her, giving her the strength to scramble back to her feet and throw herself into the fight yet again. Vhetin somersaulted to his feet just in time to block her newest attack. But this time, he was driven backward by the sheer speed and ferocity of her slashes and stabs. His tactics were now completely defensive.

Her body seemed to be moving of its own accord, all her energy focused into a blinding fog of rage. She was barely concentrating, hammering away at whatever inch of him presented itself. Yet she was unable to penetrate his defense.

"If you let it," Vhetin said, blocking a strike to his head with an armored gauntlet and stepping back as she tried to kick him in the stomach, "anger will make you sloppy. Unfocused. Like you are right now."

She tried slashing at his head again. He blocked it and answered with a powerful sidestroke that almost knocked her sword out of her hands. She felt sweat drip down her face as she jumped forward at him again. He made another move to step aside, trying to use Jaing's move on her again.

She saw it this time and swung her sword blade into the direction he was stepping. He had to pivot his blade and spin out of the way to avoid getting cut in the leg. She staggered to the side, momentarily losing her balance when the attack didn’t land. Her opponent took two steps back and lowered his guard.

"Good," he said. He was breathing hard, his pants rasping out over his helmet vocoder. "You're learning already. This may be easier than I thought."

She scowled at him and made a move to jump forward again. Before she could, he took a step back, said, "Uh-uh," and drew a long-range blaster pistol from a holster on his hip.

She froze, her eyes instantly fixed on the long barrel of the pistol. The weapon was only inches from her chest. A shot at point-blank range would leave a hole in her the circumference of her arm. She had seen it several times while serving with the Empire.

She heard Jaing sigh and say, "Ah,  _shab_ , Vhetin. Do you have to?"

"It's a lesson she has to learn," he replied and put a finger on the trigger.

"And... what lesson is that?" she said quietly, her eyes never leaving the pistol.

He sheathed his sword on his belt slowly, calmly. "That in this business a fair fight means instant death. You'll be going up against some of the most wanted scum and hardened criminals in the galaxy. They aren't going to play fair, so neither should you."

"So what should I do?" Jay asked quietly, still staring at the barrel. "Cheat? Like you are?"

"Cheating is fine," he told her, his aim unwavering. "But it's about more than what's fair and what's not. You have to do whatever it takes to win. To survive. You need to be able to kick, bite, pull hair, anything. Don't root yourself in the  _ethics_ of battle. There are no ethics in battle, just win or lose. Kill or be killed. You need to sink down to your bounty's level, think like they think, do what they would do. Because the moment you start fighting fair is the moment your enemy gets the advantage."

“What…” Jay’s throat constricted uncomfortable as the blaster continued to keep her pinned. “What are you saying?”

"To deal with criminals,” Vhetin explained, “you have to be more than a man with a gun. _They_ are men with guns, and they don't fear that. To deal with their kind, you have to become something more. Something primal, something terrifying, something they can't drive away with threats, violence, or prayers. You can't just sink to their level. You have to go even lower."

"For instance," he said, his voice sounding mildly conversational, "I could shoot you right now and not have a second thought about it. Why? Because that's what it takes to win. To live to fight another day. And to show you that you shouldn’t trifle with the likes of me."

Her eyes widened, partially in disbelief, partially in fear. "Y-you wouldn't."

"Then you don't know me at all," he said, and pulled the trigger.

The world flashed white. It sounded like a bomb had gone off inside her armor and felt like she was hit in the chest with an out-of-control TIE fighter. She crashed onto her back and clutched at her chest, gasping for air. A fire seemed to spread into her arms and legs, and she squeezed her eyes shut, gasping frantically for air. She tried to sit up, failed, and fell back to the ground. Frantically, she reached up and ripped off her helmet, the armor suddenly stifling. The cool afternoon air didn’t help.

She saw Jaing pass into her shaky field of vision. He put a hand behind her head and helped her to sit up. She did, though not without effort and more than a few pained groans.

"Hurts, doesn't it?" he asked, a sympathetic look on his face. "Wait till you feel the real thing."

Through watering eyes, she saw that her chest plate was scorched and dented, but whole. The blaster bolt hadn't penetrated, just exploded against the surface.

 _I wasn't actually shot,_ she dizzily thought to herself, feeling relief course through her body.  _He didn't shoot to kill._

She coughed again and glared up at Vhetin. He was standing calmly in the center of the corral, pistol holstered, arms folded across his chest.

"You knew,” she said breathlessly. “You knew the shot wouldn't penetrate the armor."

"Yeah," he said calmly, as if nothing out of the ordinary had happened. "Did you understand your first lesson?"

She coughed, still clutching at her chest, but nodded. "I think so. And I'm definitely going to bring a pistol to our next sparring match. Or maybe a grenade."

He nodded in approval. "I look forward to it. Just make sure it’s a flashbang grenade for now or you might get hurt. We can move up to using actual explosives in a few months."

With Jaing’s help, she rose to her feet. Limping forward, she held out her hand to the black-armored man.

"Good fight," she said. "I learned a lot."

As he reached forward to shake her hand, she kicked him hard in the groin. He had armor there, but she could tell it still hurt. He grunted and fell to his knees, clapping his hands to the affected area. In a single quick motion, she drew her own borrowed pistol and shot him in the head.

He was knocked backwards and slid to the edge of the corral, rolling head-over-heels. He eventually came to a halt, lying face-down on the duracrete with a groan. He tried to push himself up, fell back onto his stomach, and was still.

Jaing's eyebrows shot up, and he let out a quiet gasp. "Uh..."

After a moment, though, Vhetin grunted and fought to rise to his knees. He shook his head, muttering a quiet curse.

"You catch on quick," he gasped, standing slowly. Jay could hear a note of approval in his voice. He grunted again as he limped over to the edge of the corral and reattached his jetpack as if nothing had happened. "Too quick if you ask me."

"That's for shooting me in the first place," she replied.

He sighed and held a hand to his helmet. The blaster bolt had hit almost dead-center on his forehead. The armor itself looked completely unaffected, with only a blaster burn in the paint showing he'd been shot at all. He was obviously impressed.

"Nice shot. I can see I won't have to teach you pistol marksmanship.”

She nodded and tucked the pistol back into the waistband of her pants. “We’re even now?”

He nodded. “Definitely. Good work.”

Jaing, meanwhile, was staring at Jay with newfound respect. "Do they teach you that in the navy? Or was that just a personal touch?”


	8. Training Continues

The next few weeks were repetitive to say the least. Every morning she would be picked up at the  _Oyu'baat_  by Vhetin, Rame, or Jaing Skirata, and brought to the farm. Sometimes she would talk with whoever was there over breakfast before departing. Aramis had been right; a good meal was crucial before entering the dueling circle with Vhetin or occasionally the blue-armored Jaing.

Though the grueling combat lessons were equally painful, she couldn't tell who was the better teacher. Jaing was funny, charming, and often mixed his fighting with jokes or taunts that made Jay enjoy the time spent training. Later she found herself sore from battle and laughter in equal measure, to which Jaing replied that laughter was a good way to strengthen one’s core muscles.

But while Jaing's sparring matches were usually gentler on her body, she got the feeling Jaing was going easy on her. He pulled his punches and refused to take advantage of obvious lapses in her defense, and she hated it every time he did. She didn't want to be treated like a weakling  _aruetii –_  as the locals would put it. She wasn’t here to cut corners and she didn’t want to be treated like some fragile, delicate flower. She wanted to have the full experience, feel every strike and every bruise so she could learn as much as she could. When she eventually took the field as a full-fledged bounty hunter, she wanted nothing to take her by surprise.

On her fifth day of training, when the sun was beating down on the corral and making the air shimmer in front of her eyes, Vhetin suddenly tossed her a longer, heavier sword than usual. She caught it with more skill than previous attempts and frowned at her trainer.

"What's this?"

"A sword," he said blankly.

"Yes, thanks, I know that," she replied with an exasperated glare. "What's so different about it?"

He picked up an identical sword and swung it in lazy arcs in the air in front of him. "This is a traditional Mandalorian _beskad_. It's heavier and more durable than those simple shortswords we've been using. More dangerous too."

That sparring session had been one of the most brutal - yet rewarding - fights yet. Since her first fight, she had quickly picked up the subtle nuances of melee combat, and was able to hold her own against Vhetin's skill even if she was unable to defeat him. She actually managed to penetrate his guard three different times.

One time she managed to score a slash across his thigh, the blade danced along his thigh plate and dug past his flight suit, drawing blood. He let out a sharp curse and hopped back, holding his leg as blood welled between his fingers. She approached slowly, seeing blood drip down his leg just above the knee.

"I am _so_ sorry! Are you-?"

She wasn’t able to finish. Vhetin spun and slammed the hilt of his saber across her helmet, sending her sprawling hard to the ground. She tried to roll back to her feet before he could press the attack, but he planted his heavy boot against her stomach plate and pinned her against the corral floor. For what seemed like the hundredth time she had felt the cold sword blade press to her neck.

"Don't ever let your guard down," he had told her. He tilted his head to one side, then stepped back and helped her to her feet again. "Not even for me. Inside this corral, I’m your enemy. You should treat me as such."

With that, he'd left the sparring ring, limping only slightly and leaving Jay to blink stars from her eyes and ponder this new lesson.

Vhetin... Vhetin was different. He was honestly unlike anyone Jay had ever known her entire life. Well, that wasn't quite true. Back on Corellia she had lived next to a neighbor who owned a moody and reclusive Kath hound. Vhetin reminded her a little of the creature: quiet and content to leave others alone so long as he was left alone. But when provoked, he turned into a veritable fighting machine. Nothing could stop him from accomplishing his goal.

He usually said little until she was either flat on her back on the hard duracrete of the sparring corral or limping away and calling a time-out. Then he would carefully explain where she had gone wrong and what she should do to try and defeat him. He didn't use that knowledge against her, either. He honestly gave her a chance to take him down. She knew for a fact that he was  _not_ going easy on her, but she now knew better than to hold it against him. In fact she felt like she learned more from Vhetin, even though by now she had new bruises on top of her old ones.

After a week of training, Vhetin added what he called  _hunting psychology_  to her training schedule. At first, she thought it would involve books and studying. It wasn’t long before she realized that her trainer preferred a more hands-on approach.

After their sparring match he would send her through the winding dirt paths that ran through Rame's grassgrain fields. He would give her a five minute head start, then come in after her. They had stun pistols to use in the eventuality that they came across each other. If Jay was able to stun Vhetin, she won. If she was able to evade him and remain in hiding for a preselected amount of time, she would also win. She knew it wouldn’t be as easy as it sounded.

Within the expansive grain fields, Jay learned about fear; the fear of being hunted, the fear of losing the target, the fear of knowing the bounty was out there _somewhere_  but not knowing where. During her first trips into the tall stalks of grain, Vhetin easily tracked her down. He easily planted stun bolts in her back from hidden positions where his black-gray armor blended with the dark waving stalks that surrounded them.

On her sixth run through the exercise, she began to understand exactly why he called it hunting  _psychology_. She was beginning to appreciate her fear, to understand what it was telling her, and finally be able to use it to her advantage. One time, when her mind screamed at her that a seemingly empty stretch of path before her was a trap, she had listened to that fear. She backtracked and found Vhetin crouching on a parallel path, aiming steadily between the grassgrain stalks and waiting for her to pass. She shot him in the side three times with the painful stun bolts, then once more just to make sure he was down.

"Good job," he had wheezed once he'd stopped convulsing. He rolled onto his back, breathing hard and clutching at his side. "I was wondering when you would pick up my strategy."

She helped the Mando to his feet. "I realized that for all the times you were able to ambush me, I never spotted you running through the fields in the distance. So I figured you were just camping out somewhere, waiting for me to go by."

“Quick thinking.”

After two more runs — both of which had her catching Vhetin within minutes of entering the fields — she’d grown a bit of a big head. That night she had bragged of her victory to Rame over dinner, while Vhetin watched from one corner. The next day she had searched for his hiding spot for over five hours, meticulously picking her way through the huge grassgrain field. She fired no shots, and no incoming blaster bolts raced from the shadows toward her. When darkness fell and she was forced to give up her search, she had returned to the farm to find Vhetin waiting for her at the back door, arms folded casually across his chest.

She'd needed no translation to see that her successes in the psychology op were successes only because he had been allowing her to sharpen her skills. She was getting better, but she wasn’t ready for the real thing just yet. And if Vhetin truly didn't want to be found, he wouldn't be found.

It wasn’t a difficult lesson to learn. She was still a rookie and had a lot of work ahead of her before she could be as stealthy as her teacher. She took her victories and defeats with more humility after that, willing and eager to continue her training.

After the fourth week of her training their sparring matches had drawn quite a crowd. When the two entered the sparring ring, they were usually joined by Rame and Jaing, as well as two other Skirata brothers — Kom'rk and Mereel — and a Mando woman in dark blue armor who had never introduced herself. This small crowd had watched the sparring matches with interest, calling out advice or cheering when she managed to break through Vhetin's guard. By now, Jay had moved to the second smallest sparring boundary; a space only about a meter-and-a-half wide. She still hadn’t managed to defeat Vhetin, but her skills were definitely improving.

"Good job," Jaing congratulated her as she ducked out of the sparring ring, sweaty and sore. "You almost had him there."

She fixed him with a skeptical look. "What have you been smoking? I never even got close."

"You were closer than you think," Vhetin had said, stepping out after her. "I almost broke a sweat."

She laughed and good-naturedly punched his armored shoulder. He took the blow easily, and said, "I'm serious. You're learning faster than I had anticipated. Well done."

"A compliment?" Rame said. His eyes stretched wide in wonder. "From you? Jay, you wouldn't have gotten that much if you  _had_  beaten him."

Jay had grinned and laughed, happier than she had been in few months. She was incredibly lucky to be here, in the warmth and sunlight, surrounded by her new friends while they laughed and joked. If someone had told her she would be here while she’d still been imprisoned, she wouldn’t have believed it. Wouldn’t have dared to let herself believe it.

 She had caught Vhetin's gaze as the group broke up and nodded to him, smiling and trying to put all her thanks into the motion. He had given her a chance at a new life, guiding her down a path that led to rebirth and a chance to begin again, free from the threat of the Empire. She very literally owed him everything.

For a moment, she worried he hadn’t understood. But then he nodded back, a motion so slight that she almost missed it. She could almost feel him smiling at her behind that angular battle helmet. Then he turned and walked away without another word.

She thought about following him and maybe putting some of her thanks into words. But before she could take a step, she heard someone clear their throat behind her. She turned to find Rame, giving her a knowing look with his hands on resting on his hips.

“What?”

“He knows, Jay. There’s no need to thank him.”

She frowned, glancing after the black-clad Mandalorian again. “Are you sure?”

“Positive. Now what do you say to nuna strips for lunch? Mia’s recipe is to die for.”

Jay’s stomach grumbled loudly at the mere mention of food. “I don’t think anything in the galaxy sounds as delicious.”

Rame grinned at her and jerked his head towards the house. “Then come on. The food’s already getting cold.”

Jay had followed her friend, only later realizing that day had been one of the best of her entire life.

Six weeks had passed since starting her training. Every day, the routines grew longer and more dangerous. She passed some tests and failed many more, but her progress relentlessly continued. She would have it no other way.

She was currently back in her rented room at the  _Oyu'baat,_ examining a particularly nasty bruise on her back. The bruise, as she saw it in the mirror, was a brown-blue patch of skin almost directly between her shoulder blades, shaped like a boot print – courtesy of Vhetin - and it hurt like hell at even the slightest touch. She set her jaw and tried to stretch, only to be met by a spike of pain through the center of her back.

A grimace pulled at her face, but she stretched anyway. As soon as she entered the training ring, she knew, the pain would fade and swiftly be replaced by adrenaline. _Nature_ _’s painkiller_ , Jaing called it.

Yes, the past few weeks had been a kind of satisfying hell. She knew without a doubt that she was learning, adapting to her new fugitive lifestyle. In fact, she was beginning to enjoy it, and actually looked forward to the next time she could enter the sparring ring with Vhetin or Jaing.

 _And if even Mandalorians are complimenting me_ , she thought with a smile,  _wait until the Empire gets a look at the new Jay._


	9. Brianna

**Rame's farm, outside Keldabe, Mandalore**

As she approached the farm by speeder bike once more, Jaing leading her this time, she could see that this would be a different kind of training day.

A starship had landed near Rame's farm. It was an ugly thing, dark rust brown and shaped like a lopsided crate with two half-circle wings sprouting from the sides. It boasted more onboard cannons than Jay had ever seen, sprouting from almost every available surface. Curving red stripes arced along the sides, giving it a slightly exotic look, like the ship had dark, angry eyes. Jay couldn't see the cockpit viewport anywhere on the ship. The controls were probably buried deep inside the ship to protect the pilot.

She skidded to a halt and hopped nimbly off her speeder. Once the bike wound down, she pointed toward the ugly ship. "Whose ship is that?"

Jaing strode over, pulling off his helmet and surveying the ship with a raised eyebrow. He half-smiled and rubbed his stubbly chin. "Oh, now we  _are_  in for a treat today, aren't we? Come on and I'll introduce you."

"Introduce me to who?" Jay asked, following the Mandalorian towards the sparring circle.

An odd snapping sound was coming from the corral. Jay paused and waited, listening for it again. There was a murmur of speech, then another loud snap followed by a deep  _thunk_.

She turned around the corner of Rame's house to see that the sparring corral was already in use and had been turned into a kind of makeshift archery range. Vhetin was standing inside, holding an angular compound bow in one hand. A quiver of black-feathered arrows was slung over his shoulder in place of his jetpack.

Standing in the corral with him was a strange woman Jay had never seen before. The new woman was tall, attractive, and athletically-built. She looked a few years older than Jay, with long brown hair pulled back in a loose braid. Her dark eyes flashed as she took careful aim with her weapon, and as she craned her neck it revealed a long, faint scar stretching behind her right ear and down the side of her throat. She was wearing a high-collared leather jacket over a simple work shirt, and her heavy combat belt sported a full complement of weapons and gadgets, including a large pistol holstered on each hip.

As Jay watched, the woman finally released the bowstring and let a red-painted arrow fly. The arrow whistled through the air and slammed into the back of a black arrow already embedded in the target, splintering the shaft and slicing its way through the other projectile. The woman let out a short "Ha!" and punched the air, spinning to face Vhetin.

"Beat  _that,_ Stripes," she said. Her voice was elegant and smooth, bearing a strong, cultured Coruscanti accent. "I don't think even _you_ can make a shot that bloody good."

"Don't count me out yet..." Vhetin murmured and drew back his own arrow.

Rame, who was leaning against the sparring fence to watch, called out, "I buy lunch at the  _Oyu'baat_  for the winner."

"Buying me lunch?” The woman tipped her head to the side with a smug smile. “That's sweet,  _Ram'ika._ "

Vhetin loosed his arrow. With a sharp  _thwack,_ it grazed the red arrow in the side, sending it flying out of the back of the black arrow. At the sound, the woman spun and squinted at the target. She took a step closer to Vhetin and rested her hands on her hips. "Well... you missed the ten-ring."

"But I hit your arrow," Vhetin countered, "and shot it out of my other one." He looked over the woman's shoulder. "What do you say, Rame? Be the impartial judge."

“Hmm.” Rame rubbed at his chin. "It's difficult to say. What do you think  _Mi'ika?"_

Rame's wife, a beautiful non-Mandalorian woman named Mia, was sitting on the back porch skinning a bowl of lumpy orange karras roots into a rough-hewn stone bowl. She didn’t bother looking up to watch the archery match. "I think it's time you got back to work,  _cyar'ika_. This farm isn't going to tend itself."

“Words of wisdom if I ever heard them. All right, I call it a draw."

The archer woman sighed in mock-disappointment and put a hand to her forehead. "Really, Rame? That's the best you could do? When Stripes called you an impartial judge, he didn't mean for the  _score_  to be neutral."

"Well, I guess I owe you both lunch, then," Rame said, picking up a pitchfork and turning toward the distant fields.

The woman tapped her chin, a thoughtful frown crossing her features. Then she shrugged and began retrieving her arrows. “Fair enough.”

Jaing tapped Jay on the arm. "I think now's our chance to introduce you. C’mon."

They reached the corral just as Vhetin was pulling his arrows from the target. He held the splintered projectile up to his faceplate, turning it over in his hands. Then he let out a quick sigh, pulled the arrowhead, and tossed the twisted shaft onto a nearby stack of firewood. "You owe me a new arrow as well. You know how expensive these things are getting?"

The woman grinned. "Bill me."

"Hm," Vhetin said in a kind of half-laugh, and moved to set the two bows and their accompanying arrows back in the barn where they belonged.

"Brianna," Jaing said as they ducked into the corral. "A pleasure to see you back in the land of the law-abiding. How was the trip to Malastare?"

 _Brianna_? Jay remembered Aramis at the  _Oyu'baat_  mention her. He'd claimed she and Vhetin were involved... in a way. If true, this would certainly be an experience. What kind of woman the ice-cold Vhetin enjoyed, she could only guess.

 _Wait, what? Am I really sinking that low?_  She mentally scolded herself, warning herself not to meddle in the gossip of mercenaries and bounty hunters. Such behavior was likely to get her in trouble — if not outright killed.

 _You need to remember, these are dangerous people. People who hunt and_ kill _for a living. They may be friends now, but I_ _’m not sure you want to find out what happens when you cross them._

"Well..." the woman said, folding her arms, "there was a slight misunderstanding on my part. I was under the impression that the bounty was the same for Yanmushey dead or alive. And I didn't realize that if you cut off a Dug's hand, it bleeds him dry within minutes. So here I am, three thousand credits short of a full bounty, and with a bloody great mess to clean up in the ship's cages."

Jaing instantly shook his head and held up his hands. "Uh-uh. Clean out your own ship. Normally I'd do anything for a pretty face like yours, but I still have nightmares about the last time I set foot on your ship post-contract."

“I guess I have to give you that one.” Brianna laughed and clasped his forearm in a Mandalorian handshake. “I can always rent out a cleaner droid. You’re off the hook.”

“Thank the Force.”

As she watched the interaction, Jay had a hard time believing this woman was a foreigner like her. She had all the trappings of a Mando, she obviously got along fine with the locals, and she apparently had the attitude to match. She seemed basically Mandalorian already.

"It's good to see you, Jaing," Brianna said with a wide grin. She had a surprisingly friendly smile for someone with so many weapons. “It’s been too long since I’ve seen you lurking around the farm.”

“My chiseled good looks are a prized commodity across Keldabe. You’re not the only one who misses me.”

Brianna laughed. “Of course. Silly of me to forget.”

Jay shifted uncomfortably from foot to foot, unable to escape the feeling that she was barging in on some very tight-knit group. A place where she was an intruder, not only unnoticed but unwanted. The only other person as quiet as her was Vhetin, standing at the edge of the group with his arms folded and his helmet betraying no signs of outward emotion.

After what seemed like an eternity, the taller woman finally turned to Jay and cocked her head to the side. "And who is this? Another one of your girlfriends, Jaing?"

"What do I look like, a Sullustan?" Jaing replied with feigned indignation. He waved his hand dismissively. "No, just another stray Vhetin's picked up during his wild romp through the bowels of our lovely Empire."

Jay scoffed. “Excuse me?”

A jaunty wink was thrown her way. “No offense intended, of course.”

The former ARC trooper gestured between them. "Brianna, may I introduce Jay Kolta, Cin's new... apprentice, for lack of a better term. Jay, this is Brianna, one of the toughest bounty hunters this side of Keldabe and a very old friend."

"Kolta, you said?" Brianna asked as she shook Jay's hand. "That name has been swimming across Imperial channels lately. There's quite a bounty on your head. Might want to think about using a false name in the future."

"Why would you care?" Jay replied, frowning at the woman's odd form of greeting. "Are you hoping to collect?"

"No. If Cin has spoken for you, you're off-limits to me." Brianna smiled and looked over at Vhetin, still as quiet and withdrawn as ever. The only sign he was paying attention at all was a slight tilt of his head in Brianna’s direction as she spoke.

"I like this one," she said. "Much better than your last partner. He tried to shoot me when I first said hello, remember? Something about a Trandoshan blood feud?"

"Will you ever let me forget?" Vhetin replied quietly.

“Not until the scar goes away and I can wear a bikini again.”

“So… never?”

The brunette chuckled and turned back to Jay, looking her up and down with a sharp-eyed gaze that only a bounty hunter could pull off. She took in Jay’s worn-out clothes and hand-me-down blaster, then shook her head. "And where was she when you found her, Stripes? Somewhere bad enough that she had a price put on her head for escaping?"

" _She_  was in prison," Jay said heatedly. She felt a sharp surge of anger course through her. She was starting to understand why Vhetin liked her so much; she seemed to be just as clueless when it came to good manners as he was.

Before she could say more, though, Vhetin appeared Jay's side and folded his arms across his chest defensively. "And what's the going price for  _your_  head, Brianna? Ten thousand?"

"Twelve," she corrected. "Yours is worth eighteen."

"I'm worth seven," Jaing piped in. After a few moments of silence, he scowled and quietly murmured, "Not that anyone gives a damn."

"They will eventually," Brianna said. "Once you get in enough trouble to jack the price up over ten thousand. You know the hunter’s saying: _check again when it_ _’s over ten_."

Jaing gestured to himself. "Look at me! I'm a runaway ARC trooper with a longer criminal record than all you mongrels combined! I’m trained in infiltration, assassination, and demolitions, not to mention the fact that I’m a first-rate sniper. But apparently I'm not a big enough threat."

"Want my advice?" Vhetin patted the twin lightsaber hilts hanging from his belt. "Start packing some  _real_  firepower. The Empire doesn’t like it when you play with Jedi toys."

The old clone made a face. "No thank you. I can make my way without having to stoop to using  _jetti_  weapons."

Jay looked between them, feeling a rush of emotions: dislike for this Brianna woman, gratitude towards Vhetin for defending her, anger at Vhetin for defending her when she could handle herself...

But she pushed it down. Like it or not, she'd have to work with Brianna. She may be an outsider to this group now, but it wouldn't be that way forever. She just had to focus on her training and she'd be fine.

"Vhetin," she interrupted gently. "What exactly are you going to be teaching me today?"

"Today," he said, "we're going to move up to a real combat situation. More or less. We're going to take a trip into Keldabe, up to MandalMotors."

"MandalMotors?" Jay echoed. She’d heard the name mentioned during previous conversations.

"Our foremost technology developer," Jaing explained. "They're based from a big-ass red tower in the middle of Keldabe, you can't miss 'em. They design everything from weapons to starships to new variations of  _beskar'gam._ We're going to see how well you do in their simulators."

"What kind of simulator?" Jay asked. "A flight simulator?"

Vhetin moved away to replace his jet pack. As he adjusted it on his back plate, he said, "Some of that, if you want. Some real-time battlefield simulations. And of course, a good old Stunball match. It's time to show Bri what we've been teaching you."

"Good," Brianna said, her face darkening. "I've been meaning to have a nice long chat with Ume'o."

"Uh-oh. What malfunctioned this time?" Vhetin asked as they walked back toward the speeders.

"Bloody prototype rotary gun. It overheated and ripped the underside of my ship to hell. I had to use the entire Yanmushey bounty to fix the  _Blood Lily_. Poor darling’s main power conduit was all ripped to shreds too."

"I'm sorry to hear that," Jaing said, shaking his head. " _Blood Lily_ may be the ugliest piece of  _osik_ this side of the Hydian Way, but she's a tough old bird."

Jay let out a short breath. "I feel sorrier for this Ume'o."

"What?" Brianna said indignantly. "It wasn't like I was going to shoot him!"

Vhetin, as usual, was the first to depart. Without further words, he swung onto his own bike and immediately roared off in the direction of Keldabe, leaving a cloud of dust behind him. Jay powered up her own speeder and blasted off after him, racing over the terrain and watching the green fields whip past her. After a few minutes, she saw the dark shape of Vhetin's speeder growing nearer as he slowed to allow her to catch up.

Her comlink sputtered to life and she heard his quiet voice in her ear. " _I'll talk to Brianna. She's always like that with new people._ "

"What are you talking about?" Jay scoffed with a dark scowl. "She's utterly charming."

" _She just doesn_ _’t like newcomers. She'll warm up to you pretty quick. I think you two will get along fine._ "

"We'll see," she said over the comlink. "Until then, do you mind telling me what Stunball is? Nothing lethal, I hope."

" _Nothing like that_ ," Vhetin said. " _Do you remember the old combat simulators in the Empire? The ones where you would have a blaster and shoot at the moving holograms?_ "

"Of course. I spent hours in them when-" She paused, frowning. "Wait a minute, how do _you_ know about Imperial military simulators?"

" _Long story,_ " he replied, swerving to avoid an oncoming speeder bus carrying what seemed to be frozen nerf steaks. " _But Stunball is kind of like that. Only you shoot at other players, not at holograms._ "

"With blasters."

" _No, not with blasters. With special projectile weapons._ "

"That’s not better."

He let out a quick laugh. " _Jay, while I applaud your curiosity, you need to listen. It's not called Killball. You use a special plastoid projectile that sends an electrical charge through your nervous system. You flop on the ground for a few seconds, then you're back to normal and taken out of the game. No lasting harm_ "

"Hmm," Jay said, not fully convinced. "And how am I supposed to be good at this? Apart from the exercises in the fields, I don't-"

" _Haven't you been listening to what I'm teaching you about dealing with combat situations? Always scan for targets, never let your guard down, and make sure you find cover, because if you're caught out in the open you're dead. And all that was just day one._ "

"Yeah, but-"

" _And you_ _’re hardly some helpless damsel_ ," he pointed out. " _My_ buy'ce  _has the paint burn to prove it._ "

"But-"

" _And a bounty hunter's life is full of surprises. If you aren't comfortable working outside of your comfort zone, you won't last long._ "

Jay frowned as they raced along the dirt road, the city of Keldabe appearing in the distance. The metropolis spread out across the land ahead of them, rising up from the horizon as the large granite hill upon which it was built came into sight. "Something tells me that you've rehearsed this speech."

" _A little. I'm just trying to say that you need to work with new stuff. We can_ _’t train with sparring swords and practice blasters forever. A bounty hunter that won't broaden her combat horizons is a bounty hunter that doesn't change with the times._ "

"And that's very bad, right?" she said, raising an eyebrow.

" _Right. But don't worry. I have faith in you._ "

She glanced over at him. He was staring straight ahead, hunched low over his speeder to reduce wind friction. Because of his faceplate, she wasn't sure if he'd actually spoken or if the compliment had simply been a figment of her imagination. "You… you do?"

" _Of course_ ," he replied. " _You're my trainee, remember? What kind of teacher would I be if I didn't believe you could handle situations like this?_ "

She sighed and gunned her speeder forward, toward the towering walls that surrounded Keldabe's outer limits. The shanties and tents that clustered around the outer wall almost made up a mini-city in its own right. A flock of children emerged from the squalor and chased after their speeders as they slowed to enter the city, giggling and screaming at the downdraft of the bikes’ engines.

"I just hope you aren't putting too much faith in me."

It didn’t take long to enter through the huge reinforced gates of the city; a flock of Mandalorian citizens had already been cleared for entry, and the stormtrooper guard could do little to keep two more stragglers from tagging along. The “guards” were really only just a formality. More patrols of both Imperial and Mandalorian peacekeepers within the city could easily sniff out any potential troublemakers.

Once inside the massive barrier wall, the two came to a halt and parked their speeders to allow the others to catch up. Jay leaned against her bike and watched the bustling city that surrounded them. Mandalorians and foreigners alike crowded every street corner in a dazzling array of color and life. Transports on the road were flashing past them almost too fast to see, all the buildings around seemed packed with people, and hundreds of ships were roaring overhead. It looked remarkably busy, even for the planetary capital.

"There seem to be a lot more people out and about today," she observed.

Vhetin glanced around as well. "That it is. It's because of the Stunball match."

"What, all these people are heading to this MandalMotors place just to watch us practice?"

He stared at her for a few moments, then slowly said, "I think you misunderstood. This Stunball match isn't going to be just us. The entire city is going to be competing, although the matches only allow for forty people to play at a time. The tournament goes on for a week."

Her blood froze to ice in her veins at the news. Before she could barely process the information, her mouth was already moving.

"Wait, wait, wait," she stepped away from her speeder bike as she spoke. "No.  _No_. I was willing to make a fool out of myself in front of just you guys, but the _entire city_? I don't think so."

"What's the worst that can happen?" he asked with a calm shrug. "Maybe you’ll get taken out in the first round. Most around here won't bat an eyelash. It'll be what they expect from an  _aruetii_."

“But… but what about you?”

He shrugged again. “I’ll be surprised, but not upset in any way. It just means you need a little more polish before jumping into a combat situation.”

She sighed and rubbed her eyes. His words were of no comfort. What if she made a fool of herself in front of the entire city? Vhetin could act as nonchalant as he wanted, but she knew he would be disappointed. She had her differences with the man, but the last thing she wanted to do was let him down. They had both worked too hard in her training to fail now.

He must have seen her discomfort, because he took a step closer and put a comforting hand on her shoulder. "Look, if you're that nervous, I'll be on your team."

She glanced up at him. "There are teams?"

He nodded. "Twenty two-man teams competing against each other. And if you like, I'll be your partner. You don’t have to jump into this blind _and_ alone."

She had to admit, she would feel better with a seasoned bounty hunter helping her out. But she still didn't like the idea of competing in front of the entire city. "And what's so special about surviving?"

“Well these are just the primaries, so there’s no cash prize yet.” He tipped his head from side to side. "But apart from the obvious reward of a Verpine SVC-2100 blaster pistol — provided courtesy of Mandalmotors — there's the added bonus of showing Keldabe just how good you're getting at this sort of thing. It's about the  _kote_ , the glory, of victory."

Jay thought about that. She didn't like the thought of competing in front of the entire city, as well as the hundreds who had flocked to Keldabe to participate in or watch the event. But that pistol sounded like a pretty solid prize. Her hand subconsciously drifted to the butt of her borrowed blaster, granted to her by Rame months ago. It was scuffed and worn, and she wasn’t sure it wouldn’t jam if she tried to fire it too quickly. It would be nice to replace it with something a little more reliable — and Verpine weapons were some of the best in the galaxy.

Then something occurred to her. A crazy thought that nonetheless rang so true she couldn’t help but voice it. She glanced over at Vhetin, a wry smile playing across her lips.

 _Oh he_ is _clever, isn't he?_

"I know what you're trying to do."

He calmly held her suspicious gaze. "Oh? And what would that be?"

"Don't play dumb," she said, poking a finger against the hard surface of his chest plate. "This is another one of your tests. You're giving me a target, just like if I was a bounty hunter. And you're going to see just how well I perform when told to pursue that target – in this case, the blaster."

He nodded, clearly impressed. "Not bad. I was hoping I'd been a little sneakier than that, but-"

She held up a finger, interrupting him. "Let's just get a couple things straight. Number one, I don't like being manipulated like that. And number two..."

She paused, then grudgingly admitted, "...you're actually a pretty good teacher."

A soft laugh filtered over his helmet’s vocoder. He held out a hand to her and tilted his head slightly to one side. "So what do you say? Partners?"

She hesitated for only a half-second more. Then she reached out, shook his hand, and grinned.

"Partners."


	10. The Tower

After Brianna and Jaing had rejoined them, they set off deeper into the city. Jay had a hard time keeping up with the others while weaving in and out of traffic. The heavily congested streets slowed her down considerably; it seemed like every one of the other city dwellers were heading for the Stunball match. It wasn’t long before Vhetin and the others disappeared out of sight around a distant corner. Jay gunned her bike and shot forward, weaving and dodging between larger speeder cars and transport trucks.

As she rounded the corner, she found another tall barrier wall, almost identical to the one that stretched around the perimeter of the city. Like the other wall, this one was easily taller than most of the buildings nearby, constructed from massive red stone brick. Jay couldn't begin to guess at the wall's age, but if the weathered, graffiti-worn surface was any indication it was bordering on ancient. Vhetin and the others were waiting there, held up by a stormtrooper guard that occupied the sole entrance to the ring of the city beyond. The troopers were hefting Imperial-issue blaster rifles; inaccurate at long range, but lethal at close quarters.

"Present your identification," the trooper was saying. His voice was not the gravelly tones of a clone.

"Our armor is enough identification for you, meat-can," Jaing said, managing to look annoyed even in full body combat armor. "We’re allowed to be here. Let us through."

The stormtroopers seemed to debate the wisdom of picking an argument with three heavily-armed bounty hunters. They glanced at each other, as if gathering the courage to resist the Mandalorians, then thought better of it. The main trooper stepped aside and waved them through with a weary sigh of, "Enjoy the Stunball match."

As Jay caught up, one of the troopers held out a hand to her. "Halt. Present your identification."

Her heart rate spiked a little at the proximity of the troopers, so similar to the ones who had arrested, imprisoned, and tortured her. If they recognized her, if their helmet HUDs were linked to the Imperial bounty database...

But she managed to present a calm face as she nodded to the others waiting for her on the other side of the gate. "I'm with them."

She bit her lip as the trooper continued to stare at her. She was almost sure he wasn't going to buy her story. But then the white-armored man sighed and stepped away again. "Bloody waste of time… Go on through, I guess."

She was cleared for access to the next ring of the city. More than eager to put some distance between herself and the Imperials, she raced after the others waiting for her a short distance down the street. As she rejoined them, she gestured over her shoulder at the irritated troopers.

"What was all that about?"

"Keldabe has a series of five concentric barrier walls," Brianna explained, "each with only four entrance gates at the north, south, east, and west sides. It’s meant to cut off access points in case of siege. The entire city is built like a fortress."

"So, naturally, the Empire has set up checkpoints at those gates. Just another way of trying to keep us in line." Jaing snorted. "As if the guards could actually do anything to stop us from getting through."

"Are you sure it's a good idea for me to be out here?"

"Don't worry," Vhetin said. "The Empire won't try to touch you if we have anything to say about it.”

Brianna nodded in agreement. “You're safe with us. I promise."

Jay paused, taken aback by the woman’s sudden kindness. “I… thank you, Brianna.”

“You’re welcome. For now, it’s your job to prove you’re worth protecting.”

Their journey into the depths of Keldabe continued. They passed through four more checkpoints, each leading deeper and deeper into the city. None of the guards at the checkpoints gave them much trouble, and they were soon inside the final, deepest section of Keldabe. Jaing said most of the space was reserved for MandalMotors facilities, but there apparently was a good workshop and a small cantina in the area.

The traffic here was worse than ever. Speeders, both moving and parked, had to be navigated with precision and speed. Jay didn't like to envision what a Mandalorian whose bike had just been wrecked might do in retaliation. She found that she had to drive slower and slower as they got closer to what she assumed was the Stunball field.

As she rounded the corner of a block of buildings, however, she was forced to stop the bike completely and stare upward in awe.

Situated near the center of the city was a colossal skyscraper. A dark rust-red color, the building stretched hundreds of feet into the air, dwarfing all the buildings near it and quite possibly every other building in the city. Near the top was a huge circular spotlight sporting that same tusked skull symbol she'd seen on the fighters when she'd first arrived. It looked like there was a landing pad situated on the flat top of the building and there were more of the same sleek silver-black fighters taking off and landing from somewhere up there.

She had seen the tower before, but always from a distance. Keldabe was built across the surface of a massive sloping hill, and the tower was built on the highest part. From a distance, it looked like any other building in the slightly more advanced central sections of the city. At night, its skull-shaped beacon shone out over the metropolis like a gigantic industrial lighthouse, but apart from that, it didn't seem to be anything particularly special.

Yet from this distance, it was far from unimpressive. In fact, it was amazing; the scale of the tower, especially compared with the run-down slums of the rest of the city, was a sight to behold. The polished bronze surface shone and sparkled in the afternoon sunlight, making it look like someone dropped a brand-new, pristine tower in the middle of the shabby city.

"MandalMotors Tower. Impressive, isn't it?"

Jay jumped and saw that Brianna had stopped her bike as well. The other woman had leaned forward, resting her forearms on the handlebars of the bike. She looked over at Jay and smiled.

"I remember this was the first thing that hit me as I flew over Keldabe for the first time," she said. "I was working on a cargo freighter, fresh out of the Imperial Academy. When I flew over the city, I almost crashed into another ship, I was so amazed."

Jay glanced over at her. "You trained at the Academy?"

"Washed out is more like it. But yeah, for a while I thought I wanted to be a navy officer. Keeping order throughout the galaxy, putting down insurrections, becoming the pride of the Imperial fleet..."

She shrugged. "But I moved on to better things."

"Bounty hunting?"

"Got it in one," Brianna said with a nostalgic look in her eyes. “Never looked back after that.”

"Let me guess," Jay said. "Vhetin talked you out of joining the Empire?"

"Rame, actually. I didn't even meet Cin until a few years afterward."

She took one last look at the tower, then said, "Well, we'd better be catching up. We don't want the boys taking all the glory, do we?"

Jay nodded and increased throttle to her speeder. After a few moments of winding streets, she came to a grassy, open field that was crowded with parked speeders. Up ahead, she saw Vhetin swing his bike into an open space and gesture for them to follow suit.

As her speeder wound down, Jay hopped off and looked around, her gaze lingering in particular on the huge tower once again. Its shadow stretched for hundreds of feet, all the way back to the final checkpoint barrier. She rested her hands on her hips, craning her neck to see to the top of the tower. "This place is amazing!"

"I'm glad you think so," Vhetin said, following her gaze up. "Besides the  _Oyu'baat_ , this place is really the only notable landmark we have."

“There’s Bone City,” Jaing pointed out. “Not to mention that nasty, burned area where Gaihon accidentally lit his farm on fire last year.”

“Those aren’t exactly monuments to Mandalorian achievement.”

“Speak for yourself. Gaihon thinks burning that farm down was the best thing that ever happened to him.”

Brianna checked a chrono on her small wrist-mounted datapad. "We've got an hour till the match starts. Why don't we show our newcomer around? I still have to talk to Ume'o anyway."

“What do you say?” Jaing asked, turning to Jay for confirmation. “Want the grand tour?”

She nodded emphatically. “Yes please.”

It was a short walk to the entrance of the huge tower. As they passed into the main atrium, Jay found herself captivated once again. The main lobby was obviously set up to showcase the best MandalMotors had to offer, arranged more like a history museum than a hypernautics business.

There were exhibits showing suits of armor, some of it looking thousands of years old, along one wall. Along the other were display cases of weapon prototypes: pistols, rifles, rocket launchers, and almost every other kind of weapon Jay could imagine. There were even a few pistols she was familiar with, but had never known were of Mandalorian make. And most impressive, stretching down the center of the huge lobby were life-sized models of starships and speeders. There were all kinds of ships, ranging from old, ugly-looking cargo haulers to the newest exhibit, the elegant-looking silver-black starfighter she had seen across the city already.

She paused by a bulky suit of silver-black armor she'd only ever seen in history holos. There was a frill of razor-sharp nexu quills across the center of the helmet and a segmented chest plate that was vaguely similar to the hourglass shape of Jay's own sparring armor. The helmet was lacking the distinctive T-visor of typical Mandalorian battle helmets, but sported two equally menacing vertical-slash visors, each situated right where the wearer's eyes would be.

Jaing walked up behind her and folded his arms across his chest, nodding in appreciation. "That was the kit of one of our greatest warriors, who lived a few hundred years before the Clone Wars. You may not know it, but you've got a good taste for armor."

"Whose was it?"

Jaing shrugged. "No one knows his name anymore. But his suit still works better than most of our modern armor systems. The techs here hate this piece. They have no idea how to reverse-engineer its systems, and it pisses them off to no end."

The sound of raised voices suddenly drew her attention away from the exhibits. She turned back to the rest of the group and saw Brianna engaged in a heated discussion with a Mandalorian in green-gray armor. When the huntress grabbed the green-gray man by his chest plates and began shaking him, Jaing started toward her with a sigh of, "Uh-oh."

"Ume'o?" Jay guessed, following close behind. Jaing nodded. "I thought so."

"-stuck up  _di'kut!_ _”_ Brianna was snarling as they approached. “Do you have any idea how much your stupid miscalculation cost me?"

Ume'o shook Brianna off and snapped, "Keep your hands to yourself,  _aruetii_. I said I was sorry, all right?"

"Sorry isn't bloody good enough!" Brianna shouted. “I’m looking at a week’s worth of repairs just to get _Blood Lily_ to do more than limp from system to system! How the kriff am I supposed to hunt with her out of commission like that?”

Ume'o was a tall man, with a bald head and a brow creased by years of frowns and scowls. He looked tougher than a Trandoshan broodmother, but he was completely disarmed by Brianna's fury.

"What do you want, then?” he demanded. “Money? Another gun?"

"Oh no," Brianna said. She took a step away and pointed an accusatory finger at him. "No, no. I was one of your best customers. But I'm not buying any more of your bloody prototypes for my ship until you make this right."

Vhetin sighed and shook his head as Jay and Jaing stepped up next to him. He leaned closer to Jay and murmured, "Ume'o's the head technician at MandalMotors. He controls the production of every piece of equipment they manufacture. And Brianna's one of his most loyal customers."

"So why do they hate each other so much?"

"They don't hate each other at all. They get into fights like this every time Ume'o's tech malfunctions. It's become part of their relationship, I guess."

"You find it funny?"

"It is, a little. Since their fights began, I've started to discover a pattern to their arguments. Pretty soon Ume'o will start to yield-"

Even as the bounty hunter said it, the man snapped, "Fine. Name what you want."

"-and Brianna will make a proposal."

The other woman thought for a moment before a mischievous smile stretched across her face. She put her hands on her hips and said, "All right; we'll settle this with a bet. You're competing in the Stunball match, aren't you? Representing MandalMotors?"

Ume'o nodded. "Of course. Why?"

"Give me entrance into the match – just so I can personally kick your ass without repercussions – and I'll forgive you."

Ume'o thought it over and eventually nodded. "All right. I can rearrange a few places, make sure you get into the opening match. I'll get you in as team seventeen. Who do you want as your partner?"

Brianna slung an arm around Jaing's shoulders. "This bozo should be adequate."

"Bozo?" Jaing echoed.

But Ume’o wasn’t done yet. He planted his fists on his hips defiantly, a knowing grin breaking across his lanky face. "Fine. But let's up the stakes a bit, shall we?"

Vhetin leaned over again and whispered, "Ume'o's also got a bit of a gambling problem. Never knows when to quite when he’s ahead.’

“Meaning?”

“You'll see."

"What're you thinking?" Brianna shot back at the man, a thoughtful frown on her face.

"How about... if you last longer than I do in the Stunball match, I'll pay for all the repairs you've had to make to your ship because of MandalMotors prototypes. What is it, seven thousand creds? Whatever it is, I'll personally pay it."

"Tempting," Brianna said, rubbing her chin. "And if you last longer?"

Ume'o's stern face broke into an even wider grin. "Then not only do I  _not_ pay, but you have to have  _Blood Lily_ fully outfitted with the newest MandalMotors prototypes. At full charge."

"Hm..." Brianna thought over it, stroking at the scar behind her ear. Then she nodded. "Okay. There's no way you can beat me, so yeah. I accept your terms."

They shook on the deal and Brianna turned away, satisfied. As Umeo’ vanished down a side door marked EMPLOYEES ONLY, she turned to everyone else. "We should get suited up. You guys up for a nice Stunball match?"

" _This_   _bozo_ " Jaing said, "says  _haran lek_! Hell yeah!"


	11. Prepping for the Match

**MandalMotors Stunball field, Inner City, Keldabe**

As they had walked past, Jay had gotten her first glimpse of the Stunball pitch. It only took a single glimpse to see that it was a huge, tangled maze of durasteel pipes, wooden barrels, and hand-dug trenches – among other things – all stretching off into the distance. It was fenced off with rope mesh on all sides, pinning the competitors within. It looked like more than enough room to wage two-man war against the other players, and she was sure it had been designed to do so.

Vhetin told her that the Stunball pitch had originally been built as a colosseum, where ancient Mandalorians would do battle to the death for the entertainment of Keldabe’s warriors. As such, it took up a great deal of space within the center ring of the city, usually reserved for only the most important buildings.

Around the field was a large group of squat, rough-looking tents, each a private changing area for the teams. Brianna and Jaing, as an opposing team, split up and headed to their own gear tent designated with their team number, 17. Vhetin led her to their gear tent, number 14. As she ducked into the tiny tent, she saw two wooden mannequins bearing black body armor. One set of armor was cut for a male fighter, the other obviously female.

Vhetin's idea to work together had obviously been planned. She couldn’t tell if she was even surprised any more.

As she examined her own suit, she noted that it was lighter than Mandalorian armor and seemed to be made of plastoid instead of  _beskar_. Mounted on the head of the female mannequin was a mask made from the same material. It had two eye-shaped visor holes, similar to that of a stormtrooper's helmet, and a mouth guard that probably held a comlink. A power pack was attached to the back of the mask, just under the thick protective helmet. That meant the mask probably had a head's-up-display, or HUD.

Vhetin nodded toward the mask. "You'll need that. Rules allow Mando players to keep their helmets, but since you don't have a set of armor..."

She nodded and set the mask aside as she pulled the armored vest over her head. Vhetin helped her put it on, making sure everything was secure. Once he was certain her skull was protected from attack, he handed her a gauntlet with a red glowing data pad.

"That's a tracking beacon," he explained. "If we're split up, hit that and I'll be able to find you."

"And vice versa?"

He nodded as she slipped it over her wrist, then buckled on the armored boots and shin plates. He continued, "See that little number forty in the upper right corner?"

She examined the datapad. There was a little white 40 up in the top left corner. The rest of the pad was situated with what looked like a holographic map of the Stunball pitch. "Yeah. Let me guess, the number of players left in the game?"

"You’re getting the hang of this." Vhetin snapped the chest plate over his jumpsuit and handed her the mask. "You'll probably want to pin your hair up, too. More than one bounty hunter has been shot in battle because their hair fell into their eyes. You might even consider cutting it for good, if you really want to do this as a profession."

"Thanks," she said sarcastically. "But I think I’ll keep my hair the way it is."

"Your choice. Now let's have a look at you," he said, inspecting her armor as she tied her long hair up in a functional bun. "Yeah, you're ready."

"Same with you," she said, trying her best to mask the anxiety in her voice. "Dressed to kill."

He reached down to a locked supply crate in the corner of the tent, tapped in the unlock code, and pulled out a pistol. He handed it to her butt first. "Careful where you point that,” he warned. “It’s tweaked to run on a hair trigger. And if you get taken out by shooting yourself in the foot, I might have to kill you myself."

When she didn't laugh, he added, "That was a joke."

She sighed. "It didn't help. Let's just keep ourselves in the game long enough to maintain our self-respect,  _then_ focus on winning the pistol. I know you want me to win, but can we shoot for a more manageable goal? At least at first?"

"Deal," he said as he holstered his own pistol. "But you won't disappoint me, I know it."

"I appreciate the confidence, but I'm too nervous to believe you," she said. She let out a quick breath and slipped her mask over her head. “No offense.”

She was used to HUDs; she had been using them in Imperial starfighters for years. But this system was different. As she waited, there was a silent flash of amber light, then holographic words scrolled across the inside of her mask. With a high-pitched whine, the HUD suddenly began pointing out almost everything about the world around her. It showed her specs of the pistol, polarized when she looked towards a source of bright light, and even showed her Vhetin's heartbeat.

She noticed his heart was beating slightly faster than usual. So he was nervous, despite all his  _calm down, it'll all be fine_  talk.

It only took a few moments to regain her bearings, even with the dizzying amount of information thrown at her by her HUD. As she headed for the tent entrance, she turning her pistol over in her hands and inspected it closely. It seemed to be serviceable, far more so than her current hand-me-down weapon. She holstered it on a pack on her body armor's thigh plate, then patted the holster for good luck.

"They'll give us ammo at the entrance," Vhetin explained as they walked. "And we can scrounge more from the poor saps we take down."

Jay sighed and muttered, "If we survive long enough."

"Come on. It's just a game."

"Yeah. I'm sure it looks that way to a battle-hardened badass like you. But you keep forgetting that I’m just a normal woman."

“You’ve endured weeks of Mandalorian commando training without ever complaining or trying to weasel out of it,” Vhetin pointed out. “That training isn’t exactly a breeze. Trust me, Jay, you are _anything_ but normal.”

She still shuddered at the thought of all the people who would be watching. As comforting as it would be to believe his words, she didn't want to embarrass herself and prove that she wasn't ready after all. She didn't want to let anyone down.

Not even Vhetin.


	12. Oya! (Part 1)

A large wooden shack had been constructed on the edge of the Stunball pitch, dull and rickety like every other building in Keldabe. It walls were stained brown-black by years of weathering and one door was hanging half off its hinges. A long line of potential contestants were filtering inside, all dressed in the same dark armor Jay currently sported. She was a little comforted to see she wasn’t the only foreigner competing today; she saw at least five helmetless _aruetiise_ waiting in line with the rest.

It was a few minutes before everyone had made it inside. Once everyone had squeezed into the shack and settled down, a burly dark-skinned man barked at them to form four lines, ten people deep. The contestants were issued ammo belts with clips of stunball pellets. Jay examined the small magazine of tiny projectiles as the shack was filled with the sounds of clips being fed into the pistols.

Sweat peppered her forehead as her heart pounded in her ears. With trembling hands, she fed the magazine into the weapon. It was almost time...

A Mandalorian in deep red armor appeared at the front of the crowd, swaggering past with the air of a veteran Imperial drill sergeant. His helmet was split so his bottom lip and chin were visible, like the armor of ancient Corellian gladiators.

"Fighters!" he shouted. His voice easily carried over the clamor of the crowd, and all attention was quickly focused on him. He surveyed the lines of potential fighters, his helmeted gaze sweeping over all of them.

He gestured to the large wooden door behind him. "Beyond this gate," he growled, "all of you will be poised against each other. Once you're out there, it's every man, woman, and alien for themself.”

A chorus of muttering and quiet affirmations ran through the crowd. The gladiator glared at them all for a moment before continuing. “Your only salvation lies in your team partners. Stick with them, keep your eyes peeled, and you may have a chance. If not... well, there are plenty of seats open to watch from the sidelines."

Scattered laughs throughout the shack met his words. Even Vhetin chuckled a little. Jay just shifted her feet and wiped sweat from her brow with the back of her hand. She leaned over to Vhetin and whispered, "Are you guys always this serious about friendly competitions?"

"You should see  _meshgeroya_ games,” her partner whispered back. “We've actually had riots break out because of bad calls."

"Fighters!" the Mandalorian gladiator roared. "Get ready! And give 'em hell!"

His call was met with a return roar and stamping feet from the crowd. He nodded, a smile tugging at the revealed area of his face. He stepped aside, linking his arms behind his back as he took up position with the front line of competitors. Several other warriors clapped him on the back as he joined them.

As the clamor died down a loud drum beat picked up just outside the shack, quickly overpowered by a mighty rumble of thunderous noise and muffled cheers from somewhere outside. Vhetin tensed in line next to her, dropping into a battle-ready crouch.

"Get ready," he murmured. “When it starts, it’ll be fast.”

With a loud clanking and screeching, the wooden gate swung open. Light invaded the shack, bright enough that Jay’s mask tinted against the glare.

Stretched out ahead of her was a tangled mess of pipes, crammed into the wide expanse of the Stunball pitch. She couldn't see the end of the field, but it was clearly very large; maybe around a hundred meters long and twenty meters wide. A set of rickety bleachers stretched along the eastern edge of the pitch, protected from stray pellets by a huge net of microfiber mesh. The rumble she'd heard earlier was the stomping of feet from a multitude of spectators crammed into every available space. Cheers went up from the crowd as they saw the shack gate scrape open.

Jay's heart almost stopped dead at the sound. She didn’t like being the center of attention — it was a rare being who did — but this was serious overkill. There had to be a thousand people watching, and those were just the people she could see!

_What was I_  thinking? she thought, her breath coming in short, frantic gasps.  _How could I possibly believe I could make it through this? I'm going to get shot in the first five seconds!_

Then she glanced over at Vhetin, who was staring straight ahead, face unreadable behind his Mandalorian battle helmet, and thought better. _I have friends here now,_  she thought to herself.  _Friends who are depending on me. Vhetin believes I can make it through this. I'm_ not  _going to disappoint him._

“So what’s the plan?”

Vhetin double-checked his pistol and said, "When the starting shot goes off, make a break for that durasteel pipe up ahead. Take cover there and wait for me."

Jay looked over. To her right, Brianna and Jaing were waiting for the starting shot as well. Brianna was shooting barely-concealed glares at Ume'o, who was standing to Vhetin's left. Both looked just as anxious to get underway as she felt.

"We'll be given thirty seconds to get to cover," Vhetin continued. "Then you'll hear a second shot. That means the game's started."

"Then what?"

He nodded to the Mandalorian gladiator. "You heard him: give 'em hell."

Jay nodded, trying to calm her racing heart. Next to her, Vhetin took a deep breath and muttered to himself, " _Oya_."

She glanced at him. "What does that mean?"

"An old Mando saying. _Let's hunt._ "

Then the starting shot rang through the air, sharp and powerful like the crack of lightning, and Jay's mind was cleared of thought. Her legs moved without her willing it. They carried her along with the crowd, out into the open. She made for the durasteel tunnel Vhetin had mentioned, flying across the field as fast as she could, well aware of other Mandos fanning out as well. There were people everywhere, each trying to make it as far away from the other as possible before their thirty second prep time was up.

The second shot rang out by the time she was halfway to the pipe, far too soon for her comfort. It was immediately followed by hundreds of other shots as the fighters began to weed out the competition. As Jay dove into the pipe, she heard three different pellets hit the metal by her feet, ricocheting away with high-pitched pings.

She scrambled back to her knees in the sand, covering both ends of the pipe. Shots popped against the ground on all sides of her and the pitch was instantly filled with the shouts and cries of fighting men and women.

She hit the comlink inside her mask. "Vhetin, where are you?"

" _On my way_ ," Vhetin replied. She heard a flurry of shots, then he suddenly dove into the end of the tunnel. His entrance kicked up a flurry of dust and his armor clattered loudly as he fell. He was breathing hard and he reloaded his pistol while fighting his way back to his feet again.

She grabbed his arm and helped haul him back to his feet again. "Did you get anyone?"

He nodded. "Four. Almost took a pellet to the chest in the process, but I got them."

"Thirty-six to two still isn’t great odds."

He peeked around the end of the pipe, then quickly ducked back in as four different stunball pellets ricocheted off the metal. "Well, it looks like we've got a couple  _vode_  set up as snipers."

"With pistols?"

"Talented, aren't they?"

He stuck his head around the pipe and squeezed off four rapid shots, his pistol kicking in his hand with a staccato _snap, snap, snap_. Jay saw the player count on her datapad dwindle by two. He pulled back and let out an explosive breath, then jumped from the pipe, rolling to avoid the inevitable fire directed at him. He reloaded as he rolled, came up to his knees, and emptied an entire clip; Jay wasn't able to see what he was shooting at.

She watched with wide eyes as he worked; it was _amazing_. He almost seemed to anticipate incoming fire before it hit. Every dodge and roll was expertly executed, as quick and graceful as a Twi’lek dancer. His pistol came up and fired — the player count dipped by one. He fired again, then again and again. His pistol snapped back and forth, his aim as sharp and precise as a droid. Yet for every pellet he loosed from his weapon, three more seemed to race his way, some missing him by little more than centimeters. He knelt and twisted, somersaulting back into the pipe as fire peppered the ground at his feet. He came back to his feet, pistole held at shoulder length and one hand planted in the dirt to steady himself.

Jay’s mouth had fallen open. She could do nothing but stare.

He glanced over at her, panting. "How many are left?"

"Uh... thirty. Ten are out of the running already."

He nodded and said, "All right. On three, we move to better cover. We can't get anyone in this damn tunnel."

"On three," she agreed. "Where are we headed?"

He crawled to the other end of the tunnel and carefully peeked around the corner. This time, no shots greeted him. "There's a stack of wooden water barrels across the way. If we sprint, we can make it in a few seconds."

She followed him to the end of the tunnel and waited for his countdown. The cacophony of shouts and pistol fire continued to overwhelm her mask’s audio receivers. He glanced over at her. "Ready? In three... two... one!"

They threw themselves out of the tunnel and sprinted toward the water barrels. Jay heard stunball pellets popping into the ground behind her feet and pinging away off the pipes that surrounded them. She saw movement out of the corner of her eye, her mask's HUD picking out a human silhouette. Barely thinking, she swiveled and pulled the trigger four times. All four pellets hit the man in the stomach and chest and he fell, writhing as the electricity surged through his system.

"Got one!" she cried triumphantly, beginning to sprint for the barrels again.

Vhetin already crouched behind the barrels. "Nice shot. Keep it up and we might stand a chance."

Jay skidded to a halt next to her partner just as three separate pellets bounced off the ground at her heels. She glanced over her shoulder and saw another Mando sprinting toward the water barrels, probably attempting to claim their cover. She fired six times and the man fell.

"I hate to admit it," she said, glancing back at Vhetin, "but this is  _fun_."

Vhetin nodded, keeping watch on the area behind them. A Mando woman darted from cover, firing at him as she went. He ducked and the pellets punched into the barrel above him, causing water to spout out in thin streams. He popped back up and fired once. The woman fell with a surprised yell.

"Brianna!" he shouted over the comm. Jay's audio receptors dampened the sound, protecting her hearing. “Brianna, can you hear me?”

" _What_?" the other woman's voice came over the comm. The transmission was almost drowned out by stunball fire. " _I'm a little bloody busy_!"

"Have you taken Ume'o down yet?"

There was a pause over the transmission. When Brianna's voice came back, it was tight with concentration. " _As... we... speak..._ "

There was the snapping  _pop_ of a stunball pistol firing, and a distant, warbled scream over the comm channel. Jay saw the player count dwindle from 24 to 23.

" _Got him! Ume'o is down and out! Ha!_ "

"Where are you?" Vhetin asked, peeking out from behind the barrels and scanning the area. “Somewhere safe?”

" _Jaing and I are-_ "

There was a long pause over the comlink, then Brianna said, " _Nice try, Cin. You can go bugger off._ "

"Damn," Vhetin said, amusement in his voice. The open comm died with a crackle of static. "Almost had her."

They waited, backs against the leaking barrels. Stunball pellets flashed through the air and the snap of pistols drowned out almost all other sound. Jay reached up to fire at a fleeing Twi’lek fighter. Before she could, Vhetin suddenly grabbed her shoulder and forced her head down toward her knees.

"Down!"

She immediately covered her head and a stunball pellet flashed over her, missing Vhetin's helmet by inches. He put a hand on her head, keeping her down as he aimed over her shoulder and squeezed off four shots. She heard a shout and the player count fell.

She sat up again, her back thumping against the barrel. She let out a breath she didn't know she'd been holding. "That was too close. Thanks."

Vhetin grunted and said nothing. After a few moments of perusing the battlefield, occasionally firing off a shot to ward off anyone getting too close, he turned back to Jay.

"All right," he said, reloading his pistol. "I'm going to try and narrow down the competition, but I need a favor."

"What?"

He hesitated, then nodded to her hand. "I need your gun."

“My blaster?” She blanched and looked down at the pistol in her hand. "A-are you sure?"

He nodded toward a half-buried durasteel pipe. "You can hide out in that until I'm through. I'll be back with your pistol before you know it."

"And if you aren't?"

"Then… you'll have to swipe a pistol from one of the players who've been taken down." He shifted his footing, boots scraping in the rough sand underfoot. “It’ll be easy.”

“Easy? You want me to take down and steal from an armored Mandalorian and you call that _easy_?”

“The first time we trained together,” he said, “you kicked me in the _gettse_ and shot me in the head. I’d say you’re more than capable of scrounging up some extra ammo.”

She hesitated, far from excited at the prospect of giving up her only means of defense. Then she nodded and handed him her pistol. "All right, but be careful. I’m going to want that back."

He took her pistol and spun the two guns around his trigger fingers a few times, almost like an old clone trooper. "Don't worry. I know what I'm doing."

"On three?"

"Tell you what; you can count this time."

Jay took a deep breath. "Okay. One... two... thr-"

Stunball pellets began stitching the barrels over their heads. Jay ducked and covered her head with a shout, scrambling out of the line of fire.

"Go!" Vhetin shouted. He dodged out of the way and threw himself in the direction of the pellets, both pistols blazing. Jay saw the player count decrease by three almost immediately before she turned away and sprinted for the durasteel tunnel.

She dove head-first into the tunnel and landed hard a few feet down; the bottom of the tunnel had been dug into a bunker, providing cover for any who sheltered within. She staggered to her feet, using the cold steel wall to help pull her up while clutching at her sore ribs.

_Kriff_ , she thought, coughing out a mouthful of sand. _Sometimes I think Vhetin_ _’s got the right idea, strutting around in all that armor._

Once she had regained her bearings she made for the exit and peeked out, her eyes level with the ground. Vhetin met her gaze and nodded encouragingly. Then he sprinted out from behind the barrels, his pistols spitting pellets in all directions as he spun and fired, seemingly at random.

That strange grace returned to his steps, carrying him out into the open. He threw himself into a spin as pellets ripped through the air behind him, then fell to one knee and opened up at his attackers. His pistols seemed to be everywhere at once, sweeping across the battlefield and sending competitors sprawling for cover. When his pistols clicked empty, he somersaulted into cover and reloaded with a quick, precise motions.

_Come on, Cin_ , she thought, bouncing on her heels as she watched the proceedings. _You_ _’re making a hell of a spectacle, but you aren’t taking anyone down. Stop showing off and take this seriously!_

She craned her neck up, trying to get a better view. She raised herself up onto her tiptoes, holding on to the edge of the bunker and burying her fingers into the rough sand of the pitch ground.

_Click-whirr-buzz._

Jay froze, eyes stretching wide. A pistol was cycling up behind her.

She turned slowly to find a gray-armored Mandalorian pointing the charged pistol at her masked head. He gestured with his pistol — a sharp jerk whose meaning was unmistakable. At the Mando’s beckoning, her hands drifted up into the air.

Through his semi-transparent mask, the Mando sneered at her. A dark chuckle bubbled up from his throat.

“Well, well,” he said. “What have we here? A poor, lost _aruetii_ hiding out here, all by herself…”


	13. Oya! (Part 2)

Jay had been held at gunpoint often enough to know that she didn’t like it. Then again, it would be a strange person who did.

But stunball pistol regardless, there was something in the gray-armored Mando’s bloodshot eyes she didn’t like. A cold, sharp look usually reserved for kath hounds and pirates. To him, this was obviously far more than a simple game.

“All right,” she said with a shaking voice. “I-I give up. No reason to cause any trouble. I’ll just—”

“Just what?” the man chuckled. “Walk on off the pitch with nary a scratch? _Aruetii_ arrogance. You think you can play by different rules?”

He stepped forward. “You knew what you were getting yourself into. That means you take your lumps like all the rest. Maybe with an extra one or two for good measure. You foreigners are like rock roaches. You keep scuttling even after bein’ stomped on.”

He jerked the pistol again. “Turn around. On your knees. You’ll flail better if you don’t know when it’s comin.”

 _This can_ _’t be happening,_ she dizzily thought. But, despite every instinct in her body screaming for her to rebel, to fight back and ignore his commands, she found herself turning around and sinking to her knees in the rough gravel of the bunker floor.

She heard the crunch of the gray-armored man’s boots as he stalked up behind her. Then she flinched as the hard barrel of his gun pressed into the back of her head.

Strangely, the sensation was a strictly focusing one. Rather than throwing her into a dangerous panic, she found her mind growing sharper. Her eyes raked across the ground, mind racing for a plan. Her hand hand drifted across the ground, searching for something – anything – that she'd be able to use to take her out of this terrible situation.

 _Damn Vhetin_ , she found herself cursing. _If he hadn_ _’t taken my pistol…_

The gun jabbed harder into the back of her head. The weapon let out a series of nearly inaudible clicks as it began to transfer air to its condensing chamber. She had a half second, perhaps less, before the weapon fired and sent a storm of electrical energy through her skull. She needed something, some plan, some weapon—

Her hand closed something in the sand. Something hard. A piece of wood? She gripped it and tensed, ready to move at a moment's notice. Vhetin had taught her to wait for what he called a s _hatterpoint_ , supposedly based on some old Jedi philosophy. It was a specific moment, usually only a fraction of a second, when a tense situation could diverge into a myriad of different outcomes. In that moment, opponents lowered their guard and any worthwhile defender willing and able to strike could quickly turn the tide of any conflict.

The shatterpoint came: a tiny quiver in the barrel of the gun as the Mando depressed the trigger. Before her mind could get the better of her she ducked down and pressed her forehead into the sand. The pistol fired and three pellets buried themselves into the sand only inches from her head.

She didn’t give the man time to adjust her aim. Instinct had taken over by now, guiding her every motion and thought. She was merely a puppet, subject to the whims of her puppeteer. She was barely conscious of her own motions. Her arm came up, carrying with it the thick plank of wood. She pivoted as she swung, throwing the makeshift weapon into a hard uppercut.

The blow fell so hard that the force of it rattled back up Jay’s arm. The wooden plank splintered upon connection, snapping the man’s head back. His next shot went wild, ricocheting off the metal walls of the tunnel.

Her mind had now been replaced by a flood of adrenaline and panic. She leaped forward and tackled the Mandalorian, carrying them both to the ground once more. They landed hard in a tangle of arms and legs, both struggling to pin the other into the gravel.

In the end, Jay’s smaller, more dexterous fingers won out. She managed to pry the pistol from the Mando’s grip and turn it back on him. She fumbled with the grip for a moment before managing to grasp the weapon securely and place it against his chest.

The Mando only managed to scream out a frantic, “Damn it!” before she shot him twice in the chest. The pistol cracked loud in her hand, bucking back against her palm. Electricity coursed through the man’s system and crackled up and down his arms. He writhed and bucked beneath Jay, groaning and fighting against the power enveloping. Then, finally, he fell still and unconscious.

The player count ticked down a single digit.

Jay fell back into the gravel, panting hard and holding her hands to her chest. Her breath was coming in sharp gasps as the adrenaline in her system wore off. It was some time before she managed to catch her breath. Once she did, she took the unconscious man's pistol and searched his body armor for extra ammunition. She found three full clips of pellets and hooked them on her belt.

Then she let her back hit the durasteel pipe behind her, closed her eyes, and let out a deep breath. Her hands were shaking uncontrollably and she could feel sweat running down her face. This was becoming less and less like a game and more like an actual warzone. And here she thought she’d left the military behind her.

But then again, that was probably exactly why Vhetin had brought her. To get a taste of real combat.

She was beginning to resent how often she had to admit he was right.

There was a shuffling of footsteps outside her tunnel. With a quiet groan, she forced herself back into a crouch, hefting her wooden weapon again. She waited to make sure it wasn't Vhetin, just so she wouldn't accidentally take out her own teammate. The footsteps came again, closer this time, quiet and stealthy; whoever was there was trying not to be seen or heard.

 _Probably not Vhetin, then_ , she thought, narrowing her eyes. _Stealth isn_ _’t his style. He likes to go out fighting loud and proud._

Jay heard a woman's voice whispering, speaking into her mask's comlink. She couldn’t make out the words, but they were distinctly hostile. _Definitely_ not Vhetin.

Two feet appeared outside the tunnel, heavy boots crunching through the gravel at a slow and careful pace. But whoever this woman was she’d made a fatal mistake, ignoring the durasteel tunnel and the bunker hidden beneath. All the better for Jay.

She cocked her makeshift club back over her shoulder, then swung it like a bolo ball bat and smashed it hard against the woman’s ankles. The other fighter let out a shocked scream of pain and surprise as she crashed to the ground in a clatter of armor plating. Her feet flew up in the air from the force of the blow, throwing her into an almost comical tumble.

Jay wasted no time in leveling her newfound pistol and firing at her opponent. The stunball pellet cracked into the woman’s shoulder and she spasmed uncontrollably, flopping on the ground and scuffing against the rough sand with her heavy boots. When the electricity had run its course through the woman's system, Jay grabbed her under the shoulders and dragged her into the tunnel, out of sight. They both hit the ground with a thump.

After disentangling herself from the unconscious woman, Jay took her pistol and ammo as well and tucked them into the holster on her thigh plate. She quickly turned back to the end of the tunnel to check how Vhetin was doing.

The short answer: not well.

The long one: he had managed to get himself pinned behind a stack of duracrete blocks by no fewer than eight other fighters. All had joined together to take him down, standing out in the open and throwing everything they had at him. The black-armored Mandalorian was hunched over, on his hands and knees, covering his head with both hands and shouting, “Come on! This isn’t even fair!”

He wouldn’t last long like that without help. And it just so happened, his partner was once again able to lend a hand — and a gun.

Three shots felled two of Vhetin’s attackers and sent the rest scattering for cover. Jay ducked down into cover before any retaliation could be mounted against her. She heard a few pellets pop against the ground by her head, but it seemed the temporary truce had been called off. Stunball shots once again began to scream across the pitch and whistle through the air.

Deeper into the tunnel, the unconscious woman suddenly twitched and held a hand to her chest. A grimace pulled at her features and she let out a low groan of, “Ah, _bollocks_ that hurts…”

Jay glanced down to find the woman gingerly pull off her armored face mask. As soon as she did, Jay’s hands flew up and covered her mouth.

“Brianna? Oh, kriff, I’m so sorry, I didn’t know—”

The woman glanced around the tunnel, saw Jay, and seemed to put the pieces together. Once she did, she slumped to the ground and grunted, "Ugh... nice kriffing shot, Kolta. Cin wasn’t lying about your talent with a pistol."

Jay fell to one knee next to the woman. "I didn’t know it was you. I never would have… never thought—"

“Don’t.” Brianna raised a hand, then winced at the motion. "Don't bother. You beat me fair and square. You already took my gun and ammo?"

Jay held out a hand, which Brianna gratefully accepted. The taller woman struggled to her feet, still holding her ribs. She rested a hand against the wall, then began to limp for the exit.

"Are you going to be okay?" Jay called after her.

Brianna dismissed the question with a wave of her hand. "I'll be fine. Besides, it was a nice shot… very nice shot. Best of luck, Rookie."

No sooner had Brianna clambered up out of the tunnel than Vhetin dove back into it. He flew through the entrance of the bunker as if he’d leaped forward at a full run and crashed to the ground with a pained grunt. He managed to kick up a thick cloud of dust when he landed, so thick it obscured him from sight for a moment.

She heard a frantic clatter of armor plating and he emerged from the fog, on his back and aiming to the entrance. Jay ducked out of the way just as he pumped four pellets into the Mando who was stupid enough to chase after him. The man stumbled and fell, twitching, into the dust outside the bunker.

As soon as the threat had passed, Vhetin went limp on the ground only inches from where Brianna had collapsed minutes before.

“Oh man…” he gasped. His head hit the ground with a hard _thud_. “Oh, _man_. I think I’ve successfully managed to piss of every other competitor on the field.”

He craned his neck up to stare at her. “How many are left?"

Jay checked the player count and found it lower than she expected. "Seven players. Just how long have we been here?"

"Oh..." Vhetin struggled to his feet as four different shots hit the ground near the edge of the tunnel, "I'd say about half an hour. We Mandos don’t like to waste time messing around."

“And what would you call your little stunt out there? Running around like a decapitated nuna, shooting at everything that moved?”

He grunted and reloaded his weapons. “I needed the exercise.”

Jay turned back to the end of the bunker. She sighted in on a Mandalorian with a deep green helmet who seemed to think he was safe, crouching behind the leaking water barrels Vhetin and Jay had fled from earlier.

She pulled the trigger and two shots spat from her weapon. The Mandalorian fell onto his back and twitched once, letting out a shout of rage as electricity raced through his body. He recovered surprisingly fast, pushing himself to his knees and ripping off his helmet before storming off the pitch, cursing and shouting as he did. The crowd booed his poor sportsmanship and quieted down only when he stalked out of sight.

Vhetin appeared at her shoulder, glancing up and down the field with both pistols raised. After a moment, he adjusted his footing and growled, "Tell you what; there's a bonus of five thousand credits for capturing the flag at the other end of the pitch. No one's gotten at it yet, so what do you say we make a break for it?"

Jay considered this new reward. Five thousand creds would be a nice extra, and it would go a long way to rebuilding her life. Besides, there were only six people left, including her and Vhetin. She glanced at her partner and said, "Jaing's probably still out there. You think he'll slow us down?"

"Not if you  _really_  want those credits. Greed can be a powerful motivator."

Jay nodded. "Then let's go for it."

"I'll cover you. You just get to that flag.”

She glanced at him with a frown. “Are you sure? You want to just throw away the victory?”

“We are a team, remember? You win, I win. As for the credits, I don’t much mind. I’m not exactly wanting for cash. You, on the other hand…”

“All right,” she said. “You don’t have to rub it in. And… thanks.”

“Don’t mention it,” he growled. "Just run as fast as you can, no matter what happens. I'll be right behind you."

"On three?"

He flexed his hands around the grips of his pistols. "Just run."

She turned back to the stunball pitch.  _Just keep running_ , she told herself,  _and grab that flag. Five thousand creds in the pocket and_   _the pistol for less than five minutes of work. You can do that. Easy._

She huffed out a breath and hauled herself out of the tunnel. Shots began ricocheting all around her as soon as she hit open air, but she gritted her teeth and forced herself to take off toward the end of the stunball pitch. She leaped over a half-buried pylon, incoming pellets cracking right beneath her feet. She was vaguely aware of Vhetin right behind her, spraying twin arcs of fire from his pistols as he matched her step-for-step. She turned back to check how he was doing, but he shouted, "Don't worry about me! Keep pushing for the flag!"

She didn’t need to be told twice. She snapped her gaze back to the land ahead and kept running, all her thought and strength aimed toward pushing her legs faster. Tunnels, half-pipes, and twisted durasteel girders flashed by, but she paid no attention to them, the shouts of enemy players, or the pellets that whistled through the air.

"They're heading for the flag!" a gravelly voice shouted. Jaing's voice, unless she was very much mistaken. "Stop them! They're-"

_Crack!_

He was suddenly silenced. Vhetin lowered one of his pistols as he ran and growled, "Keep your mouth shut in a fire zone unless you want to give away your position,  _di'kut._ You of all people should know better, Mr. Super-Bred Assassin."

He sped up, easily keeping pace with Jay. "Almost home," he said, shooting at a Mando Jay didn't even bother to look for. She heard a cry and the player count clicked down one more hostile contact.

"Almost there!" she gasped, seeing a red flag come into view on the horizon. Fire was racing up her side from the exertion, but she didn’t slow down. She couldn’t. Not now, when she was so close. "Almost-"

Vhetin suddenly stumbled. She glanced over her shoulder, worried that his luck had finally run out. But her partner waved her on and shouted, "Go! Go! I just tripped!"

He took four steps before a pellet screamed through the air and hit him hard in the throat. She heard a dry, wrangled choking sound over her comlink as her partner lost his footing and was slammed back into the hard ground. Electricity instantly coursed through his system., blue-white lightning popping across his armor.

"Vhetin!" She skidded to a halt, taking a step back towards him. She didn’t get far before she remembered his words:  _Run as fast as you can, no matter what happens._

_No matter what happens._

Obviously he wanted her to get to that flag, even if he went down in the process. He was a bounty hunter. He of all people would understand necessary sacrifices.

She hesitated a moment longer, mind racing as she considered the possibilities laid out in front of her. Vhetin was down; there was no denying that. Staying and helping him would only leave her open to attack. She needed to move on, complete her objective, before that happened. She could come back and check on him after the game was over and the reward was hers.

It sounded like something a bounty hunter would do. She hoped he wouldn’t hold it against her.

“I’m sorry,” she murmured, then took off again.

A shadow darted along behind a short durasteel wall to her right and her instincts screamed that someone was trying to flank her. Right on time, two different shots whistled out from behind the wall, missing her by mere inches. She flinched under the enemy fire, then raised her pistol and squeezed off a barrage of shots in her attacker’s direction.

Her shots hit home; the man aiming at her twitched and fell. She heard a familiar shout of rage over the din of battle. A second later, a familiar-looking helmetless man staggered back to his feet and aimed his pistol at her, loosing two more shots.

 _That_ _’s the man from the tunnel!_ She ducked as pellets screamed over her head. _The one who tried to attack me! He cheated! Vhetin got taken out by a cheater!_

She hit the man twice more in the chest, the stun rounds cracking hard against his chest plates. The man twitched, hands clenching hard as his muscles spasmed. But then he shrugged off the pain and sighted in on her again.

It was obvious the rules no longer applied. This man was determined to take her out, rules or not, disqualification or not. She could do nothing but outrun him. So she turned and ran, as fast as her weary legs could take her. Her sprint kicked up a thick cloud of dust behind her, like she was a character in some child’s holo-toon. But no matter how fast she ran, incoming pellets seemed to continue screeching past her in a hectic cloud of projectiles.

The red flag seemed to shrink further into the distance with each passing second. Her legs were growing week, her feet thumping hard against the grounds and her knees shaking dangerously. She gritted her teeth and let out a yell of effort as she willed her legs to move faster.

 _Breathe_ , she thought. _Just breathe and keep going. Don_ _’t stop for anything, no matter—_

A grunt of surprise and a loud crash of armor plates interrupted her thoughts. A second later a deafening roar rose from the crowd — a cacophony of cheers and stomping that seemed to drown out all other sounds.

She hazarded a glance over her shoulder to find that Vhetin had barreled out of nowhere and tackled her opponent. The helmetless man was taken completely by surprise as the black-armored Mandalorian pinned him to the ground, hands behind his back. Vhetin gave him a vicious punch to the back of the head for good measure, then looked to Jay and gestured wildly with his one free hand.

"Go! I'll keep him down!"

Jay didn't slow her relentless flight. Her feet pounded hard against the sand now, sending sharp spikes of pain up into her thighs. Her breath was little more than a desperate rasp, her entire being focused on nothing more than lifting her feet and putting them down again, sucking in breath and huffing it back out again.

The flag was only meters away now. Jay gritted her teeth, feeling her strength seep away in this final push. She stumbled, unable to run any longer, and instead leaped forward with all the might left to her. A gasp of anticipation and excitement rose from the crowd as soon as she did.

She landed hard in the dirt, her breath ripped from her lungs by the force of the impact. A fog of dry dust invaded her lungs and her fingers scrabbled at nothing more than loose gravel. Her mind clouded with panic when she grasped at the air ahead of her and grabbed nothing but dirt and open air.

No, no _no_! She had  _not_  gone all this way just to lose mere _inches_ from the flag!

With a final strangled moan of effort, she crawled the last few inches before collapsing. Her hands wrapped around the flagpole with the iron grip of desperation. As soon as her fists closed around the pole, she collapsed in the dirt and let her helmeted head hit the ground with a _thump_.

There was a split-second of shocked silence. Then a colossal roar rose from the bleachers on the sidelines; hundreds of feet stomping and crashing against wood, loud enough and hard enough to shake the ground. Jay didn't — couldn’t — pay it any mind; her strength was completely drained. Her mind was a fog of exhaustion and adrenaline, unable to process anything but her racing heart and her uneven gasps as her lungs strained for oxygen.

"Jay!" A distant voice was shouting for her. " _Jay_!"

The world shivered, then tilted hard. Someone was hauling to her feet, tearing her fingers from the flagpole. She groaned and did her best to struggle, reaching for the flag. She couldn’t let it go. She’d won, fair and square. She needed to—

But then she saw a hazy black-armored figure, hauling her to her feet. His hands were tucked under her shoulders, supporting her weight as he lifted her back to her feet. "Jay! Wake up!"

Her mind was still struggling to recover from the exertion. "W-what? Vhetin? Did… did we win?"

" _You_ won, Jay!" He had to shout to be heard over the thunderous cheering of the spectators.

She must have misheard him. Must have been distracted by the noise and her own exhaustion. " _What_?"

He patted a hand to the side of her head. "Look at your counter!"

She dazedly glanced at her player counter, in the corner of her heads-up display. It was blinking a single number: 1.

She blinked and pulled her mask off, rubbing her eyes and looking at it again. The HUD, now cradled in her hands, showed the same thing. Not _11_ , not _12_. Only 1.

 _It_ _’s me_ , she thought with dazed disbelief. _I_ _’m the one. The last one left standing. I… I won!_

Her eyes slowly widened as she felt Vhetin slapping her on the back in congratulations. "I _knew_ you could do it!"

She still couldn’t quite wrap her mind around it. "I-I _won_?"

"You won!"

She'd done it. She’d faced down this challenge and emerged victorious! Despite her own anxiety and inexperience, despite the chaos of battle, and even despite another contestant’s cheating, she'd  _won_!

Suddenly Jaing and Brianna were there too, laughing and shouting so loud she couldn't even hear what they were saying. She was surprised to see them so pleased with her — after all, she had shot Brianna while Vhetin had taken Jaing out. If anything, shouldn’t they be jealous of her success?

 _But then_ , she remembered,  _it's just a game._

She remembered all the anger, fear, and emotion that had come with this game. How the angry, helmetless man had flat-out broken the rules in his bid to win. How Vhetin had taken a pellet while protecting her, sacrificing his own chance at the prize to ensure she made it.

 _Just a game,_ she thought as she was surrounded by roaring, cheering Mandalorians.  _Yeah, right._


	14. Partners

**Rame's farm, fourteen miles outside of Keldabe, Mandalore, that evening**

Jay was sitting at the round table inside Rame and Mia's rustic farmhouse. Her hands were cupped around a mug of a sweet-smelling drink that Vhetin had called  _tihaar;_ apparently a kind of alcoholic fruit drink the locals enjoyed. It was rich and tangy, sending a pleasant tingle through her nerves.

The others had proposed celebrating at the  _Oyu'baat,_ but Jay had declined. She was sure she'd had enough congratulations for one day, and she doubted she could take much more excitement after the match and the subsequent victory ceremony that had taken place afterward.

The ceremony had been swift and efficient: after cleaning herself of dust and dirt, she’d been led back to the dark wooden shack that served as the entrance to the stunball pitch. The interior had once again been crowded with Mandalorians, this time recuperating from the fight and being checked over by a team of white-armored medical technicians.

A stocky bald man with a dark scowl — Vhetin had introduced him as Tobbi Dala — had given her a terse congratulations and handed her the grand prize: a pouch of five thousand credits worth of chips and a sharp-edged, elegantly-designed pistol, the likes of which she had never seen before. It was a Verpine pistol, crafted by the buglike weaponsmiths of the Roche asteroid belt.

It was a beautiful weapon, one that Jay almost felt uncomfortable wearing on her person. She wasn’t used to carrying such fancy gear — in the past, she’d made do with whatever Imperial outfitters had given her. Whether it was a top-of-the-line SE-14 blaster or a clunky old projectile bolt blaster was up to her procurement officer, and she’d had little say in the matter.

But now she had her newly won pistol holstered proudly on her belt, and five thousand credits sitting in a newly opened credit account. It wasn’t bad for a single day’s work, no matter how hectic and exhausting that single day had been. She was confident she would be able to make it on her own now; no more sapping off Rame's and Mia's credits and no more relying on the charity of others. She was ready to pull her own weight and take whatever Keldabe — and the rest of the galaxy — could throw at her.

But that, at least for the moment, could wait until tomorrow. Right now, she was sipping at her mug of   _tihaar,_ a warm wool blanket draped across her shoulders, and listening as Jaing retold his experience within the Stunball pitch.

"-and I'm like, _Damn it, he knows where I am_ ," Jaing was saying. "So I jump over the wall-"

"I saw that," Brianna laughed.

"-and hit him with at least fifteen pellets, right in the chest! The man was flopping like a  _gi_  out of water!"

Jay laughed along with the rest, took another sip of her drink, and said nothing. She was content to simply sit and listen.

"And who got a glimpse of Vhetin and Jay there at the end?” Brianna said. “I don't think Keldabe's seen a finale like that in twenty years!"

Vhetin rubbed his throat. When he spoke, his voice was harsh and hoarse — a side-effect of taking a pellet to the throat. "Yeah. I heard the cheers when I went down."

"It's nothing personal," Jaing said. "But whenever a fighter goes down in a spectacular way-"

"It was hardly  _spectacular_ ," the black-armored man said sourly. His voice was apparently too loud, because he quickly broke down in a quiet coughing fit, masked and muffled behind his helmet.

"Don't be so modest," Brianna said, patting her boyfriend on the shoulder. "You totally leaned into that shot. It was _very_ dramatic."

"Technically it didn't even count," Jay said, speaking for the first time since they'd gotten back to the farm. Her voice was almost as hoarse and quiet as Vhetin’s. Even speaking so little made her body shiver with exhaustion again. She felt like she could head back to the  _Oyu'baat_  and sleep for a week.

"What do you mean?" Mia’s voice was soft and soothing.

"That Mandalorian," Jay said quietly. "The one at the end. He cheated. Got back into the fight after I'd already shot him."

Rame shook his head and scowled. "He was probably drunk even as the starting shot went off. That man lives across Keldabe from cantina to cantina."

"Vhetin sure took him down, though. He tackled him while he was still running." Jay bit back a laugh of her own. She took a larger swig of  _tihaar_  to ease her throat and continued, "After I got to the flag, I couldn't believe I'd won. Vhetin had to tell me at least three times."

Jaing burst out laughing. "You should have seen the look on your face,  _vod'ika_. Your eyes looked as big as dinner plates!"

The entire table burst into laughter, Jay included.

She was glad that she could be sitting here, with her new friends, cupping a cool mug of _tihaar_ in her hands. It was a stark contrast to her life a few months ago, rotting away in prison. It almost seemed like the more freedom she was allowed, the more she remembered of the stark contrast of prison life. It was good to be able to think of that as the past.

As everyone was laughing, Vhetin suddenly stood and left the room without a word. The rest of the people at the table didn't pay it any mind, but Jay glanced after him. The man stalked down a side hall and out of sight. A second later, the back door creaked open and slammed shut again.

Jay frowned, concerned at his behavior. "Is he all right? Did I say something wrong?"

Rame shook his head. "He's unwinding from the fight. Just like you are. Don’t worry about him."

She nodded distractedly. A few moments later, she stood from the table and walked after him, leaving the rest of the people at the table to their conversation. She pulled her heavy blanked more securely around her shoulders, shivering as she stepped outside and into the cold evening air.

She found him standing on the back porch, leaning up against the side of the house with his arms folded across his chest. The sun had long ago sunk behind the horizon, dimming the sky to a dark purple color. The dark planes of Vhetin’s armor seemed to blend with the shadows, breaking up his outline and making him nearly impossible to see in the gloom.

There was a gentle clanking of armor plating as he turned his neck to glance at her. He nodded in greeting, then turned his gaze back to the dark horizon. She stepped past him and settled herself down on the edge of the duracrete porch, resting her aching legs.

They sat in silence for a long time, both content simply to listen to the gentle breeze murmuring through the endless stalks of grassgrain. A kalo wolf, a predator native to Mandalore’s grasslands and forests, let out a mournful wail in the distance.

When the silence was broken again, it was Vhetin’s voice that drew her attention.

"You did a good job out there," the Mandalorian murmured. "You deserved to win that pistol. The credits too."

"No." She shook her head. " _We_ did a good job. I wouldn't have made it through that match without you. I almost didn't."

He rubbed his throat again with a dry grunt that may have been a laugh. "I wish I could say the same."

They were silent for a long time again before he continued, "So I guess my faith in you wasn't so unfounded."

"I wouldn't say that," she said. "There were plenty of places I could have screwed up. It was all I could do to keep from peeing myself."

"But you didn't," he pointed out.

“But I could have—”

“You could have,” he echoed. “But you _didn_ _’t.”_

He shifted, resting his hands over his belt buckle. "I still stand by what I said before. You're going to make great bounty hunter one day."

Jay found herself questioning the statement. Did she really show that much promise? During the match, she'd felt all kinds of emotions; fear, anger, blind panic. She'd won, sure, but was that really because of her skills, or was it simply luck?

Then she remembered how she'd dealt with the Mando that had attacked her in the tunnel. How she'd taken him out of the fight with a simple piece of wood. How she’d subsequently beaten Brianna — a seasoned warrior in her own right — with nothing more than her wits and a stick.

Was _that_ what Vhetin was talking about? Her adaptability when under stress? How she always seemed to come out on top, no matter the odds? Maybe what he was saying was that her luck was her greatest strength.

She frowned at the thought. _Maybe I do have a chance at this bounty hunting stuff._

Behind her, Vhetin shifted his weight from foot to foot. She glanced over her shoulder at him and saw him staring at his boots, looking almost hesitant. When he finally spoke, his voice was low, quiet, and carrying an almost embarrassed tone.

"So... when you do go on to be a hunter," he said, "once your training is done here… do you want to consider a... continued partnership?"

Her eyes widened at the suggestion. He hadn't thought they'd worked  _that_ well as a team, did he?

“I… I don’t know,” she said. “I never really thought that far ahead.”

“You’ll be paid,” he quickly added. “Handsomely. A fifty-fifty split of contract profits.”

She raised an eyebrow. “Generous of you. But why do you want to work with me? I’m pretty sure you don’t need the help.”

“You’d be surprised,” he said. “It’s always smart to have someone you trust watching your back.”

“And you trust me?”

His gaze didn’t wave from her, and when he spoke again, all trace of awkwardness and hesitation was gone. “I do now.”

She bit at her lip, thinking hard over the proposition.  It was far from an unpleasant thought. Having a veteran hunter watching her back would only help keep her alive. And working with him was sure to give her access to contacts and missions she couldn’t begin to dream of.

 _But do I really want to work with him?_ she thought. _I mean, he_ _’s not exactly my type. He’s… well, he’s_ dangerous _._

But then she remembered how efficiently they had whittled down their fellow competitors, each of them in their own special way, each playing to their strengths. She remembered how this mysterious bounty hunter had been the guiding hand leading her through this painful part of her life, when she'd lost everything she'd ever known and loved. How he'd taken an electrically-charged pellet while protecting her, allowing her to win the contest at the cost of his own chance at the prize. How he'd rescued her from prison in the first place, risking his own life in the process.

He had given her so much over the past few months: a new life, a new home, and the chance at a new future. It was about time she had a chance to return the favor.

So she smiled at him and nodded. "Yeah. I'd like that."

“You’re sure? I mean, I know I’m not exactly the easiest guy to work with, but—”

She held out a hand to him, cutting him off. "Partners?"

He stared at her hand for a few moments, as still as if he were carved from duracrete. Then he shook her hand and nodded.

"Partners."

* * *

  _To be continued in White Snow: Initiation..._


	15. Next Time

_Next Time_ _…_

Jay's training is progressing nicely under Cin Vhetin's tutelage. Under his careful, and often relentless, guidance, she is quickly growing into the bounty hunter he knows she can become. But now the time for training is coming to an end. She is almost ready to take her first fledgling steps into the dangerous world of bounty hunting.  
  
But when an old conflict from Vhetin's past returns to haunt him, he must take Jay to hunt down a dangerous criminal mastermind who has eluded him time and time again.  
  
Seeking help from all sides of the board - from ruthless criminal syndicates to the Empire itself - the two must race across the galaxy to bring this dangerous being to justice before he strikes again...


End file.
